


I Am With You (All the Way)

by FreakCityPrincess



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jyn and Bodhi play the fool while Cassian gets stressed, Post-Rogue One, Sassy Imperial murder droid, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Undercover Operations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakCityPrincess/pseuds/FreakCityPrincess
Summary: Surviving the battle of Scarif with lifelong inflictions to tell the tale, what remains of the Rogue One squadron have to keep fighting. It will always be their mission to live -and die- for the Rebellion. But life isn't so bad when people stick around, and death isn't so bad for a cause worth dying for.Firefights, risky piloting, covert operations and an irritatingly consistent narrative of their chances of failure will follow as Rogue One embarks on a series of difficult missions for the cause they believe in- until Jyn is made the public face of the Rebellion and their future with the Alliance is threatened to be severely compromised.





	1. Everything Fades (to Stardust)

Explosives rocked the landed ship, debris screeched against the hull and the entirety of it tethered on the brink of collapse. Another explosion brought it back to its right position. Bodhi didn't dare release the breath he was holding.

A frightening rush of static from Cassian's end of the line. It was only two hours ago that everything was going _right_. How had his world gone incoherent in the space of just two hours?

Chirrut had risked both his neck and his life to get to the lever that had to be pulled. He was one with the Force. The Force was, invariably, with him as well, because the Kyber temple guardian had fulfilled a task they'd all thought impossible. Bodhi had watched from inside the ship as the guardian fell. One life gone. Baze had been there for his longtime friend, though. He supposed that was a good thing. Two lives gone.

And now static over Cassian's line. Had Chirrut's sacrifice meant anything? Had the effort gone to waste, were they back where they started? He would probably never know. But he liked to believe that at least this part of the mission was accomplished. 

_Wait at the ship_ , the pilot kept telling himself, playing and replaying Captain Andor's order. _Wait at the ship_. He was the one and only chance they had of making it out of this hellhole alive, and he was going to do the most he could for Rogue One. He was going to crawl to the cockpit, fire up the engines, and start rounding up as many rebels as possible. It would help to keep a wary eye out for blaster fire and grenades, and the ship would be better off in the air rather than as a sitting target.

An explosion from in between the trees. Too close for comfort.

He heard footsteps thunder behind him and turned over his shoulder, startled. Not Imperial troopers. Whatever that was left of the squadron that had set to work just outside the data tower's entrance. He counted four men.

"The Imperials are withdrawing."

"The weapon. They're about to fire the weapon."

It was suddenly too real to him. Jedha city had been a close call. He had been taken care of, because he was disoriented, and he didn't have the mental capacity to so much as stand on his own two feet. Captain Andor, Jyn, the droid and the two guardians had essentially saved his life. But right now on Scarif he was the one holding other lives in his hands. And if what had happened to Jedha was going to happen to Scarif–

"We can't leave without Jyn and Cassian," he declared, shakily, feeling the full weight of the depth of gratitude he owed them for the previous time.

There was no one to argue. Their depth of gratitude ran deep, too.

The pilot snapped the hull closed and maneuvered in the direction of the tower, several significant inches closer to the Death Star's actual target.

The knowledge that this mission, this critical moment in which they were prepared to give their lives, would save millions more from the Empire's weapon, it was enough to die with. Knowledge that their lives and, indeed, their deaths were tied to greater purpose. They leaned against the elevator walls for support as it jittered all the way down, paying no visual attention to the weapon that loomed over the atmosphere like a phantom harbinger of death. In both their hearts they felt it, terror, but this feeling was forcibly submerged. Cassian reached for her and Jyn grasped his forearms like a lifeline. Even in the sordid darkness they managed to find comfort in each other's eyes, in the silhouettes of each other's faces. Their foreheads touched. They both knew they could wait like this forever, or at least for the short bit of time they had left.

The elevator shuddered to a halt at the foot of the tower. Pulling away, Jyn kicked at the door to throw it open before hooking an arm under his and helping him out of the dark space. She couldn't figure out how he had managed it. A fall from that height onto steel beams. Climbing back up that height _again_. Putting a bullet through the man who had ruined her life and set it into a motion it could have avoided.

Did she really mind that anymore? Her last moments were tied to a purpose her father had believed in, a purpose she now fought for. She had been a part of a rebellion against the very enemy who had taken away everything she held dear, and she had triumphed in the end.

She carried his weight as far away from the tower as she could, paying no attention to the sudden golden colour of the sky. They fell to their knees on the sand. Cassian looked towards the explosion, the Death Star's blast that was spreading, and looked back her way. He was smiling. She returned the smile. There were no words that needed to be exchanged as they embraced, and Jyn allowed the realization that she was clutching onto everything she had left. Her purpose. The Rebellion. The cause she was dying for.

Cassian held on because, similarly, Jyn Erso represented everything he had lived for. The Rebellion. The dream.

The tower had already been taken over by the blinding light and the beach was being consumed, too. This was how they would go down. Destroyed by the weapon that their efforts would soon destroy.

Over the shoulder she fiercely held onto, Jyn managed to make out a shape that was rushing for them. A ship. The hatch was open. Urgent arms reached out for them as the pilot went into a steep upward curve.

The explosion spread, and her world erupted. Shards of gold and blinding light. Even that faded, and nothing remained.


	2. Until the Chances are Spent

It was a perfect night outside. Every star of the galaxy above the small world looked down favorably upon it, and there was the impression that wandering just a little beyond the horizon one would find oneself treading the night sky. The ceaseless chatter of insects sparked from different directions, prominent but not loud enough to hurt the senses. No, the night was perfect...and he felt his presence itself would throw everything off. Fest was not a world for the ill at heart. None of its scattered farming communities involved in the politics of the galaxy. Very few of those hosted drug cartels, and members of an underworld that was almost nonexistent. It was a planet that raised a respectable, hard-working populace of good morales, easily some of the best people you would ever come across.

Which was why he didn't belong here.

Not wondering much about what he was doing back on his home world– a world that was half in ashes now, run over by Imperial occupation– Cassian ducked out of the crashed ship's open hatch and half-stumbled onto damp Festian soil. There was only a little bit of a crater where the ship had crashed. No fire or smoke from the wreckage polluted the star-studded sky. He didn't pay it much attention, though. He found himself wandering, breathing a pleasantly cold air he had not breathed for years. Not since he was six years old. 

Due to some unimaginable good luck they hadn't crashed anywhere near Imperial occupation or otherwise- the field appeared empty for miles. It didn't _feel_ empty. It radiated life and spirit and _hope._ Suddenly he had no qualms about feeling alive. It may have been a code of his job in Intelligence to focus on the mission and the mission only, but this time, back on his home world, the mission was the last thing he found he could _possibly_ care about.

He called the names of everybody he could remember. His mother, his father, the relatives who'd adopted him– he got no response but he didn't feel his heart sink. Fest! Beautiful, peaceful, independent Fest. There was no Imperial occupation _here_. He was just being ridiculous. Cassian almost felt like laughing at himself. What a load of–

An involuntary spin of his ankles brought him back to face the ship. Crashed. Its hull was blown out and the windscreen was shattered. No fire, no smoke, but there were bodies.

Dread gripped at his insides as he, again involuntarily, approached. 

He fell to knees just like he'd fallen on the beach at Scarif. Scarif. What was he doing there? Wasn't it an Imperial planet? What did _he_ have to do with the Empire?

He saw the bodies spread out before him on the wet, leveled grass, and it all came back to him.

He'd joined the Rebellion. At six years old, he'd picked the Rebels as his side and he'd hated the Empire for the carnage they'd brought to his world. For all the dead bodies of Festians that had surrounded him then, and haunted him now.

His _family._

And now them, the team with which he had rushed into Scarif with hopes of saving the Rebellion. The Death Star hadn't killed them but the crashing ship had managed it. Short-circuiting remains of K2SO. Chirrut, and Baze, with his blaster still attached to him. Bodhi lay slumped and lifeless against a piece of hull. The Sergeants, Majors and Corporals of the Alliance who had joined in on the fight, mostly people he had purposely not grown attached to over the years. Contrary to the initial purpose of maintaining a distance, he felt attachment now. They had all made a sacrifice for the cause they believed in. He promised himself that their deaths would not be in vain.

A sudden surge of panic lurched in his chest. He strode across the grass and started turning the bodies over. He closed the eyelids that hadn't shut by themselves, recounting names as he went. There was someone missing, his instincts screamed. Someone he wanted to see. Did missing mean alive? Was that a good thing?

Scrambling in a panic he hadn't felt for years, his hands gripped a jacket that was a little familiar.

_Jyn?_

He turned the body over, hoping against hope that he was mistaken.

Empty blue orbs stared back at him.

Cassian woke up in a cold sweat, heartbeat threatening to rise way above the normal rate. He tried to steady his breath as his eyes focused and unfocused on the things around him. His legs felt like lead. There was a sharp bit of metal sticking against his spine, not at all courteous to his recent injury. Something else weighed down on his chest. It was difficult to tell exactly where he was, but the...interior...whatever...of this environment was steel grey with bits of blue and red.

He remembered falling from the Data Tower in Scarif. The landing had felt like this. Metal, sticking into his spine. Non-functioning legs. Grey, red, blue.

His grasped for his ribs to check if they weren't all over the place, but his fingers brushed over light fabric instead. He could tell at once that it wasn't his. He didn't wear thin overalls even in the most sweltering climates. He concentrated on the weight against his chest until he could make out what it was. A headful of hair, messily arrayed, unconscious but breathing. With a stubborn effort he shifted, moving the head to a better perch, his knees. That way his knocked out comrade would not restrict his air supply.

"Are you awake?" came a hazily recognizable voice. Melshi?

"Probably," grunted Cassian, then shut his eyes as pain seared through his lungs for the force of the words uttered.

"That was a close call," said Melshi. The Sergeant's face loomed into focus from a short distance off. He was also lying in an uncomfortable angle with the limbs and guns of two other soldiers over and under his frame. "Too kriffing close. I don't know what the hell that pilot was thinking, but I'm glad it didn't result in every one of us getting killed. And look, you're both actually alive. Mission accomplished, I suppose."

Cassian recognized the dry humour as ranting to clear the mind of other things, things like an instant at death's door, but he didn't have the strength to respond until the words finally clicked to him. "Who's alive?"

Melshi snorted. "Either I'm talking to a ghost or you are. Go to sleep, Andor."

His fractured bones felt it was a good idea, so he slid to the metal floor completely and relaxed his spine against the closest thing for comfort. Somebody else's blacked-out body. At the same time, feeling unusually considerate, he dragged up the comrade slacked against his knees to pull him into a less straining position. Cassian froze when he saw whose unconscious form he held.

Melshi peered curiously from the wall opposite.

Wanting nothing else but for this to be real, he held Jyn in a warm embrace instead, tucking his chin over her tangled hair and blinking himself to sleep a second time. Too much was happening right now for anything to be considered. For all he knew they were all dead, or buried under debris from the explosion and dying. This reality was too good to be true, and inarguably much better than he deserved.

Cassian woke up for the third time to the anxious exchange of voices. Well, waking up was easier said than done because his backbone still grated in a dozen places and the only things that actually moved were his eyes. There was a hand that supported him, though, and once he'd managed a partially upright position he noticed it was Jyn. She smiled, a little strained, patting his knee. He caught bits of the ongoing conversation.

"...can't let the Alliance know just yet. Imperials still out there looking for us."

"But we're lost here. We can't navigate this system."

"Early hyperspace, I'm so sorry–"

"Early hyperspace saved our lives. Don't be sorry."

"It's practically uncharted!"

"We're alive," Jyn answered the question on his mind quietly. "We made it. But it looks like we're somewhere deep inside an uncharted system, and we can't contact the Alliance."

Cassian frowned, sitting up a little straighter. "We're alive?"

Jyn held his hand tightly. "Bodhi saved us. The plan worked."

A better reality than he deserved, but he was infinitely glad for it. Glad that Jyn and at least a few others had made it. Half-dazed still, he attempted to assess his surroundings.

Melshi, Sefla, Bodhi and two others whose names he couldn't recall. Nobody looked to be in good shape. The hype about having survived seemed to have worn off the group- now they only looked deeply concerned about the present.

"Captain Andor," Sefla greeted him dryly. "It's good to see that you're living. But you have been in and out of uncharted territories over the years, maybe you can get us out of this one?"

Cassian tried and ignored the spreading ache in his spine and told himself to concentrate. They may have escaped once, but the current situation sounded only a little better than the previous one. Still he found himself inexpressibly relieved to see the six faces, alive, looking at him. He had really believed Scarif would be the end, and he wouldn't have minded. Death for a cause worth dying for.

Too many people were missing, though. Chirrut. Baze. K2. Tonc. Arro. Their deaths hadn't been in vain. Their sacrifice had saved the Rebellion. He had kept a professional military distance, because it did not serve one well in his line of work to get attached, but he missed them now. They deserved this good fortune better than he did.

"Do we know which the closest system is?" he asked. It would not do to quit now. These lives also deserved a chance.

Melshi kneaded his forehead tiredly. "No, that's the problem. We don't know where the hell we are. There isn't a single known system around that catches the radar."

"What about this planet, then?" asked Jyn.

"Can't tell if it's inhabited," answered Bodhi, dropping his gaze. "The atmosphere's rough. It won't even be an easy landing. We're just free-floating right now."

"At least there won't be Imperial forces down there," said one of the two men Cassian couldn't identify. "We can hold out for a while and then attempt to contact the Alliance."

"Let's go with that," Sefla agreed.

The ship suddenly jittered, rattling the broken bones of its occupants. Bodhi was on his feet and running for the cockpit. He made various alterations to the control board, minimizing the air filtration and turning off the lights. With their years of experience nobody had to ask what was going on- they were running so dangerously low on fuel that not even energy for the lights could be spared.

In the ominous darkness Cassian grabbed onto a metal grille for storing luggage and hauled himself to his feet. Jyn started to protest when his back refused to stretch out completely, but he nevertheless made his way to the copilot's chair with as fast as he could. Collapsing to the seat, he curled his fingers around the manual steering and changed gears. The ship dropped of its own accord, pulled by the planet's gravity, and an overgrown green surface started speeding towards them.

"Point three liters of the tank left!" shouted Bodhi, eyes wide.

Cassian turned to him. "I owe you one for Scarif. Lower the landing skids on my signal?"

"O-Okay," stammered the ex-Imperial pilot, gripping the handlebar over his seat with shivering knuckles. Too fast, things were happening too fast.

"Good man," nodded Cassian, and sped for a cluster of trees just as a shockwave shot up his spine like lightning.

The ship crashed into a thick green canopy and past thin barks that snapped like twigs, not plummeting nose-down only because the skids kept the fall balanced. But everything shook, lurched and jittered at a rate that broke chunks off the interior, racks, grilles, benches. Sefla had the bad luck of having anchored himself to one of the racks that broke off. The fall paused for a moment. The hull scraped against something. Then the branches in which it had got caught tore down through the middle and the ship fell again.

It was an eternity before a final creak of metal as the skids hit the ground, and the ship rocked dangerously before swaying back to a stable position. Sefla shifted away from the hatch with a groan, his broken leg further ill-treated. Jyn uncurled from the protective ball she'd rolled into. The others released the iron grips on their anchors.

Bodhi shakily got to his feet, breathing a sigh of a relief. He looked back at his cargo. A few protesting groans, but not too much of damage done.

Jyn stood up using the wall for support and dashed to the front of the ship. "Is he...?" she started, panic creeping into her voice.

Cassian put whatever energy he had left into opening his eyes. "I'm...fine. We need to...find fuel...and get out of here. Just...just our luck if it's uninhabited."

"Don't move," ordered Jyn, although she was glad. "I'll leave to search for a filling station. I think I'm..." She looked around at the others. Searched for the word. "Relatively fine."

The Captain raised a sarcastic eyebrow at her. "You're going, really? Alone? Into that wilderness?"

"I'll go with you," said Bodhi quickly. It was clear that despite all he had done, he still wanted to do more. These were his friends. It was better than the Empire had ever given him.

Erso looked him over closely. There didn't seem to be much in the way of critical damage the pilot had sustained- bruised and burned in several places, but he was much better off than Cassian.

"Thank you," she said finally, a half-smile naturally forming. Perhaps the recent brush with certain death had made her a little more generous with gestures of appreciation. Melshi was about to volunteer, but Sefla, cradling a broken arm, intervened before he had the chance.

"Oh no you don't. We need somebody to defend this ship if anything else goes wrong."

"No," came Cassian's aggressive disagreement. "Melshi, go with them."

Jyn picked up a gun from the floor and clipped it to her belt. "Lieutenant Sefla is right, Cassian. We need somebody on board who can defend the ship."

"Listen here, Erso–"

"He's just being protective," snickered Sefla, dismissing the deadly glare he got from the Captain at that. "But it makes more sense if Melshi stays with us. Besides, Sergeant Jyn Erso has proven that she can defend herself, and more. You don't disagree on that front, do you, Captain?"

"I'm speaking with Draven about that wit of yours," threatened Cassian, but he didn't argue further. At least the debate had lifted spirits with the group. The men were still laughing when Bodhi and Jyn walked down the gangplank and stepped onto soil.

"I think we're in luck," the pilot's lips twitched upwards uncertainly, following a narrow, beaten path with his eyes. "It probably leads to a settlement."

Jyn observed the direction in which the path ran- damp and blessed with the shade of a further line of trees. It was approaching evening, from what she could tell, but the little bit of sky that made itself visible was heavy with a promise of rain and darkening. She partially wished they had put this off until the next morning, but chances couldn't be taken on an utterly foreign world such as this.

"Let's go," she agreed, and lead the way down the battered path. It smelt of bark and damp, like some of the wilder areas of Lah'mu had when she was a child. It surprised Jyn that she could recall that now. But the scent was unmistakable, and she hadn't been through this kind of terrain since she was nine. She told herself to focus.

A drizzle started to fall on them about thirty minutes in, but by then they'd progressed a long distance from the ship and were nearing what looked like the end of the forest. The mass of trees were starting to give way to a clearing. Despite the drizzle they slowed their pace and approached carefully. They had yet to confirm that the planet's populace weren't a threat.

"Down," Jyn whispered, getting to a crouch. Bodhi followed suit, but he stayed still in the undergrowth while Jyn kept moving, assessing the place. It appeared to be a small town with a large portion of cleared forest as extra compound. But there were no parked ships as far as she could tell, indicating that these were people who didn't frequently make long-distance journeys –also that it was hardly likely they'd find a fueling station here- but the settlement was a reasonably-sized one. Traditional fire-lanterns lit up the insides of squat homes and a semi-paved street ran through the gaps. A high wall of mesh was built around it, though. Not to mark any boundaries, this was the only town around. For protection, then. From what? The forest they were exiting was probably not uninhabited, either. It was a good thing Melshi had stayed with the ship.

Bodhi seemed to be thinking the same thing. "I hope they don't run into..."

She squeezed his shoulder. "They'll be fine. Let's make inquiries about fuel and we can leave this planet."

They got back onto the path, slowly approaching the compound.

Each step closer to the town started to show them just how protected the small settlement was. The poles holding the mesh were thick and made of iron, and the wall itself stood at about thirty feet tall. There was a gate built into it with bits of barbed wire sticking around the edges and two alien sentries with rifles guarding the gate.

One of the guards pointed its weapon the moment it caught sight of them, but the other ventured forward and started asking questions. Neither of them understood the language but they raised their arms to show they were unarmed. Jyn had tucked her gun into her jacket beforehand.

The guard, a short, scaly alien with pinkish skin, asked just one more question before concluding that they were outsiders, huffing, and issuing the order to let them through. Its partner regarded them suspiciously before opening the gate. Jyn managed to get through without scraping on the wires, but Bodhi had to bend his back in half.

They found themselves walking past lit-up squat mud houses with barred windows and closed doors, down a steet padded with unpolished rock. None of the passers-by, none of whom were human, seemed to pay them any attention despite of how out-of-place they looked. But Jyn eventually started to detect shuffling feet and quick glances whenever they passed. Fearful chatter rose to high pitches. There was something wrong about their presence here. Bodhi gripped her forearm as soon as he felt it.

There were suddenly no more short, pink-tinged pedestrians who couldn't speak their language. Eerily enough it appeared that everybody had either retreated into their homes or put as much distance between themselves and the newcomers as possible. Then they saw it. A number of taller humanoid figures had stepped from an alleyway onto the street ahead of them. Most of the figures were muscular and largely built. All of them bore weapons.

"We need to leave," said Bodhi nervously, halting, taking a step back. "We can't fight them."

"We don't have to fight them," Jyn assured him, taking a step forward. She adapted the most non-threatening stance she could think of, palms raised in the air. Realizing that there was no way out of this, Bodhi did the same, although unlike the Erso girl his expression didn't threaten something like approach us and I'll slit your throats.

The figures were all human but frighteningly well-built. The one who appeared to be the leader of the group considered their surrender for a moment. Then he snorted and clicked his fingers.

Jyn's blaster was out the moment one of the men stepped forward with a body-sack. She shot him and at least two others before the whole group jumped forward and they were both roughly handled, gagged and enclosed in bags that turned their visions black.

Jyn felt her senses assaulted by the foul stench of some kind of plant-drug the moment she regained consciousness. Golden light, like the approaching explosion on Scarif, burned into her pupils when she opened them. She knew the all too familiar weight of shackles on her wrists. Her head hurt like it had hit something hard before she got here.

She heard a voice speak Basic and she forcibly opened her eyes wide enough to see beyond the blinding light. A man of brutal proportions was shaking something beside her. Alarmed, she looked over her shoulder to see Bodhi's unconscious form.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "Stop!" The man turned her way and glared. Unintimidated, Jyn barred her teeth.

The pilot finally lolled his eyes awake, which was essentially what the man had wanted in the first place, so he ignored her and walked away from his prisoners calling other names. Jyn paid attention to Bodhi in this space of time. "You alright?" she asked.

"Where...where are we?" he mumbled.

"I don't know," she whispered, assessing the place with her eyes. It was brightly lit with a dozen electric lamps handing low from the ceiling, and there were tables and benches in the other corners of the room. Unlike the dwellings they'd previously seen, this one had a high roof and walls and floorings made of wood. The stench was overwhelming. She felt she would choke out if she had to bear with it for much longer. "But we'll be alright. I promise."

"We're chained," said the pilot, looking down at his shackles.

"I've broken out of chains before. We'll be okay."

"Jyn?"

His tone of voice made Jyn look his way with concern.

"I'm glad you're here," he said earnestly.

She didn't have time to reply to that, because that was when about six men from before, the pack leader included, walked into their line of vision making a whole lot of noise. The foul stench grew stronger at their proximity. None of them looked particularly healthy, although every one of them did possess huge fists and a musclemass that was difficult to see past. The leader snapped at his group to shut up. All drifted into silence, but the sneers remained. They studied their prisoners eagerly.

The leader started to speak. Rancid breath drifted their way.

"I am sorry for the...rough welcome, by the way," he said, grinning as his men snickered behind him. "What is a pretty girl such as yourself doing on a planet like this?"

It probably wasn't a good idea to smart-mouth on this one, but Jyn was doing it before Bodhi could warn her.

"Why don't you first tell me what the hell I'm doing in a run-down drughole such as this?"

"She's a feisty one," the leader snickered to his men. Sickly laughter chorused around the room. "Even got a gun on her."

"I thought I might have to deal with lowlives like you," said Jyn. "All planets have a bunch, don't they?"

"We didn't mean any harm," amended Bodhi quickly. "We're only here looking for fuel. We'll be on our way soon."

The main man scoffed, unimpressed. "A little soft, aren't you? Who should I be afraid of, you or your little sister here?" He stroked Jyn's cheek at the last bit. If her ankles hadn't also been tied down she would've aimed a kick at his groin.

"You should be very afraid of the both of us," she snarled.

The man smirked, running thick fingers through her hair. "Forgive me if I just find that cute." He clutched a at her locks. "Be careful who you pick a fight with, girl. But I'm feeling generous today. Shall we give them a sporting chance?"

There were a few approving hoots and a couple of shouted refusals from the bunch. He listened for longer, counting the votes under his breath, and turned back to the prisoners with a delighted grin.

"Guess what, you're getting a chance to leave." When Jyn didn't waver at the news, he only brought his rancid breath closer and announced, "And, if you play especially well, we'll give you the fuel you want. Isn't it a grand deal? You can thank Welk here. He's got a bit of a soft spot for the innocent ones. Normally we reserve this punishment for people who swindle our drugs and money from us."

Welk appeared from the crowd to stand beside his leader. He was of even greater proportions and almost two heads taller than all the others. Jyn could guess why they listened to his suggestions.

"What's your game?" she asked neutrally.

Welk produced what she recognized as her blaster. He then tossed it in to a transparent bag of similar guns. The leader proceeded to pick them out one by one. More of the men started filling in from the floor above them, and there was soon an unbreathable audience. It didn't serve to boost Jyn's confidence that they would make it out of this one. There was no way the two of them could run through that.

One of the strongly-built humans pushed a long table in between the prisoners and their captors. The leader laid the guns out on the table. Carefully, like it was an elaborate dinner spread he was arranging and not a gamble with death. When he was done there were nine guns before them. Jyn didn't recognize hers anymore. She hadn't paid it much attention earlier to note the specific model or any distinguishing marks. In general structure it was the same as all the other guns.

The leader of the group clapped his palms almost gleefully. "Here you have nine good old-fashioned blasters. Five of them are uncharged and basically harmless. The other four are overcharged, making them essentially lethal. Lethal on first shot. You're going to get four chances. Tell me which gun to try out. Twice on you, twice on your friend."

Jyn shook her head. "Leave him out of this."

The leader narrowed his eyes. "If you don't comply by my rules, girl, I will try whichever gun I want until I have one that fires. And then I will shoot you both dead."

"We agree to play!" exclaimed Bodhi hastily. "But the gun that she says."

The man sniggered. "Good. Now is your first chance."

Jyn stared at the firearms spread out before her. For all she knew they were all lethal and these chances were a lie. But there was no way of telling. The indicator lights had been ripped out of all the guns. If she made the wrong pick then one of them would die, and the other would be as good as dead. Having survived this far, to be foiled by a group of lowlives at their own game...

"Second from your right," she said.

While the others looked eagerly on, the leader was more than happy to pick up the second gun from his right.

Bodhi prayed to the Force that Jyn knew what she was doing.

Grinning maniacally, he extended his arm, aimed for her forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Bodhi flinched and shut his eyes, expecting the dreadful sound of blaster fire, but there was nothing. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend again. She was still alive, and hadn't broken her glare on the ringleader.

"Well played," he commented, after shaking hands with most of the crowd. "The next try is on him."

"Fourth from your right," she answered, eerily self-assured.

He slid the gun off the table and extended it at Bodhi. The pilot breathed what he was sure would be his last. But once again there was no sound.

"Interesting," admitted the man with the gun, grinning almost dementedly. There were whistles and hoots from the staircase. Bets were probably being made by now. The leader threw a salute Welk's way.

"I'll go with...third from your left."

"Your lucky numbers are saving you, girl," said the ringleader and pulled the trigger again. A puff of smoke was the only thing that left the barrel.

Applause rose from the spectators. Money was thrown around.

"Hey, it'll all be over after this," snickered the man. "Your last chance. Better not break your winning streak for his sake."

Jyn studied the guns lying on the table before them. Bodhi wondered how she was doing it. She had stalled, though. This time she had stalled and she was starting to look a little less self-assured.

"Fourth...fourth from your left," she said.

The man whisked the blaster off the table and pointed it at the pilot. His finger was squeezing into the trigger guard when Jyn shouted.

" _Fifth!_ The one after that. Not that one."

Bodhi felt his whole being fill with cold dread just as the room descended into silence.

"That's not how we normally play, girl," the ringleader informed her regretfully, and pulled the trigger.

Nighttime had fallen when it started to rain. There was ice mixed in with the water, thudding against the roof of the ship and reverberating. The half of the group that wasn't paying attention to various battle scars and fractured bones were repeatedly cursing the planet and its insufferable climate. Cassian had his back leaned against the copilot's seat and his eyes closed, contemplating both the worsening pain that was getting difficult to ignore and the events of the past couple of hours. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had exited Yavin 4 offering up a false name for an unapproved mission they believed would save the Rebellion. There had been a lot of good people on this ship when it had first taken off. Too many of them had perished, either in battle or in the Death Star's fire. During their lifetimes he had never grown attached to any of them- being part of the Rebellion meant you were prepared to let go of your life, or face your comrades' deaths at any given instant- but in the aftermath of that all or nothing battle he appreciated the lives those people had lived and everything they would have done for the cause they believed in. He found he missed K2's annoying habit of making smart remarks at inopportune times. Infuriating though he may have been, the droid had been the closest thing he'd had to a best friend. And then there were the friends Jyn had easily picked up on Jedha, the two guardians of the Whills. It had not been their place to fight. But they'd done it. They'd stayed true to a friendship that had only just started, and also they had fought because, regardless of political opinion, saving the Rebellion had been the right thing to do. Cassian feared he would never understand their move. The Allaince had taught him to be a spy, an assassin and a saboteur for the right reasons, not to be a good person for no specific reason. If he wanted to learn that he should have asked Chirrut or Baze. Now, maybe, he could ask Jyn, because she had also given her all for a mission that wasn't merely her duty.

He watched the unmoving canopy of trees through the rain and ice that slid down the windscreen.

Something rustled behind the thick cluster of leaves. He strained his eyes to distinguish what it was. Yes, the trees were definitely not staying still. Perhaps the wind had picked up. The movement was too unpredictable, too irregular for wind, though.

The floor of the ship rattled.

"What the hell was that?" exclaimed Aren. Cassian had earlier managed to recount the names of the two men. They had never accompanied him on missions before Scarif.

"I have no idea," muttered Melshi, appearing at the front of the ship. He pressed his face to the windscreen and tried to spot something in the semi-darkness.

The floor thudded again. Sefla and Liowa joined them around the cockpit. No shapes appeared from the trees. It was only the outline of rain on the leaves.

Another thud. This time it actually changed the position of the ship itself.

"Down," hissed Melshi urgently. "Everybody down!"

Everyone who was at the front of the ship rushed to the cargo area, where there was more space, and did as instructed. Melshi stayed close to Cassian, who only managed to bend his head down slightly.

The floor shook again just as a massive shape emerged from behind the trees. An animal that moved on two legs from what they could tell. The shape of it was all that was even remotely distinguishable in the dark.

A snout suddenly pressed to the windscreen, jumping the ship several paces backwards. A low howl emanated from the creature's throat. A mist formed on the screen as it breathed.

Cassian straightened his back cautiously, knowing that in the previous position it was very close to breaking further. Somehow the animal detected this hint of movement. Every bit of muscle that was visible to them tensed. It reared back, and kept going, like it was preparing to charge.

"No," Sefla groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

And it charged. They braced themselves for the worst, but it stopped just a few feet short of them. A scare, then. It was only trying to intimidate this foreign object in its territory.

The creature breathed onto the windscreen once more and reared back to study the ship. Cassian maintained his position, rigid.

It seemed to snort its approval before turning the other way and making off back into the trees. The floor rattled as it did. Nobody dropped their stances until it had completely disappeared from sight.

"Well, that taught us something, didn't it?" grunted Melshi, getting to his feet. "We need to hightail it out of this miserable planet."

"How long has it been?" Cassian asked, pointedly ignoring his longtime comrade.

"Two and a half hours, Captain," replied Aren, who'd been tasked with keeping track of the time. "But it's reasonable. Can't be easy finding a settlement with a filling station in this jungle."

"Don't sweat," Sefla patted Cassian on the head in a way he would never have tolerated if he'd been in a condition to fight in. "They'll be back, Rook and your girl."

The Captain glared so sharply at him that he actually removed his hand. "For the last kriffing time. She's not my girl."

"Don't take it personally," Melshi sympathized, hiding a grin. "We've been stuck here a while and getting on your nerves is all Taidu can do to keep himself occupied. Besides, you're making it worse by actually getting angry."

"Of all the people to be stuck on this planet with," Cassian relented.

"You've been stuck on worse planets with me," Sefla happily reminded him, ruffling his hair a second time. The Captain promised himself that if he ever recovered enough to be able to so much as raise a fist, Taidu Sefla would be the first person he would raise it at.

Rolling a huge container full of fuel behind them, Jyn and Bodhi didn't even look back until they were a long distance away from the town and on the battered path. As soon as they deemed it safe enough they let go of the container and exhaled in relief.

Wordlessly they embraced tightly before letting go. The pilot had half a dozen questions prepared for her, but he froze when he noticed the fearful expression on her face. It was so out of place for Jyn Erso that he assumed that there must be some kind of nightmarish threat approaching and turned around in alarm.

"No," sighed Jyn, burying her face in her hands. She looked more grief-stricken than fearful. He had never seen her that way before. There was anger somewhere in there, too. Maybe he had. He recounted how she had looked on Eadu after her father's death. This was close.

"You saved us–" he started, but she cut him off.

"I nearly got you killed. If that had been a charged blaster, Bodhi, if that hadn't miracularously been–"

"That's not fair, Jyn," he said gently. "It wasn't only me. You could have got shot too."

"With an uncharged gun," corrected Jyn, furious at herself. "After the first round it was all supposed to be an uncharged gun, without question. Then in the last round I lost concentration and you nearly paid with your life for it!"

Bodhi looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"The first round," Jyn rubbed her temples roughly. "That was the only actual guess. I luckily got an uncharged gun and he fired it. But he wasn't paying attention. He put that gun back down in a different place without even looking at it, and he joined in to cheer with the others after that. Each time I got him to pick up that same gun."

The pilot reached and hugged her again. "But that's brilliant!"

"Don't you see?" she shook her head. "In the last round I lost focus. I couldn't tell where he'd kept the gun. I got the places mixed up. My mistake could've got you killed, Bodhi, and you've done so much for us–"

"I'm not dead, am I?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulders, and his grasp around her was stronger than she'd ever guessed possible for the ex-cargo pilot. "Don't worry about what could have happened. Maybe you did pick the same gun that last time. It doesn't matter. We're both here, and thanks to you we have a tank's amount of fuel to get us off this planet."

Jyn nodded minutely. "Okay," she said noiselessly. "Okay."

"Come on," said Bodhi, picking up both of the roller's handles. "Let's get out of here."


	3. Glory Saved  for Heroes

The Alliance had secured its first major victory against the Empire, and it was clearly showing in the activities about the base at Yavin 4. To begin with, the medbay was full and most additional space indoors had been converted to some kind of extension of the medical facility. The casualty count had reached an all time high during the battle of Scarif, but that count had thankfully stopped once the battle was officially declared over. Few spirits at the base were elated. Even the grandest victories didn't come without a fair share of losses. For the Alliance, that loss was the sheer number of lives that had perished both on the shores of Scarif and on board the ships that had fended off the Empire's vessels and attempted to bring down the shieldgate.

At least everyone liked to think the battle was a victory. Word had not yet been received from Leia Organa regarding the Death Star plans.

Ground officers working in intelligence had set to work soon after the battle and listened in for uninterrupted days to every signal transmission they could tap into. Not even so much as a rumor about the plans they had sacrificed all to steal. The ground officers were listening to transmissions, and...

"Incoming message from a registered source, sir."

"Can't be. All registered communication devices are here on the base and disabled."

" _Force..._ "

"Stop acting like every signal you tap into is going to give us something, Private."

"General. You really have to see this."

"Oh  _really?_  Impress me."

"The transmission is coming from...Rogue One, sir."

Bodhi set the ship to free-float on autopilot and left the communications wall, joining the others without any particular confidence in his expression.

"I tried," he told them, sitting down on the floor next to Melshi. While the lights on-board hadn't been completely switched off, the glow emitted had been considerably dimmed. It was still unclear just how much longer they would have to hold out with a limited fuel supply. "That was the fifth transmission I sent. If they're listening in at all, they'll receive it."

"We can always try again," said Melshi. "Don't sweat, Rook. You've done enough for us and the Rebellion as it is."

The ship descended into silence. With two out of three benches broken, the five men sat in whatever positions they deemed comfortable on the steel grey floor of the ship while Jyn caught some well-earned sleep curled under the remaining bench, behind Cassian and Sefla. They were all used to holding onto nothing but faint hope for long periods during missions, and used to the uncertainty that threatened to crush their spirits during these periods. Practiced endurance served them well now.

"So, while we're here," started Aren, cracking the long streak of silence. Conversation was necessary. It gave you something to anchor onto. At least in the present moment. It went well with faint hope. "You never did tell us how you got that fuel. Not an exciting story?"

For reasons known only to himself, Bodhi laughed silently. "No. Pretty exciting."

Melshi decided he didn't like the sound of that. "Please tell me you just visited an ordinary filling station."

"We...er," the pilot drew his knees to his chest, eyes twinkling with good humour. Cassian felt again that he would never understand the new additions to his team- Alliance soldiers, he knew them. He was one of them. But individuals like the defector pilot, and Jyn Erso, they were a different class of their own. "We visited a drug den, actually."

Everybody except Sefla was visibly taken aback by this revelation.

"I'm guessing Cassian's girl got into a fight?" he asked neutrally. "She's got an aptitude for that kind of thing, from what I've heard."

"You are this close to being shot as soon as I get my hands on a gun," muttered Cassian, leaning back against a leg of the bench and ignoring the sharp sting of pain that shot through his backbone at the touch. "What actually happened, Bodhi?"

"Nobody in the settlement spoke our language, and there weren't any humans around for a while," replied the pilot. "We attracted a lot of stares. And then this group of men step onto the street- a big group, we couldn't possibly hope to face them- with weapons. We tried to show that we were unarmed. They weren't convinced."

He recounted the events that had had his nerves wrecked before they were handed a container full of fuel by the largest man, Welk, and warned by him to make their way out of the place before the rest of the gang members decided they weren't handing out their resources to strangers for free. Nobody said a word of interruption during the narration. Once it was over with another stretch of tenseness followed, which ended earlier than the last one when Melshi commented, "That was a deadly gamble with your lives, so I'm pretty impressed that you're both here and alive right now. A word of advice. Next time you come across a bunch of armed thugs who outnumber you, don't pull out your blaster and shoot a couple of guys. A pity you had to learn that the hard way."

Bodhi had neglected to mention it was only Jyn who had tried to defend them, so he only nodded tersely. Thinking back on it he didn't regret that turn of events, not entirely. They wouldn't be out of that planet's atmosphere yet if they hadn't got their hands on that fuel. He preferred to think on the brighter side.

Melshi stretched his legs out as far as he could without intruding into Sefla's space. "I'm also impressed that Sergeant Erso bet on the same gun each time. But don't let her know that. We don't want to encourage any future neck-risks."

A remark from Sefla was prevented when the familiar tune of a communications wall beeped from the front of the ship. They sat straighter and listened in for what they hoped they would hear. A mechanical whirring, then a protocol transmission voice devoid of human emotion.

"This is ground intelligence to Rogue One. We hear you loud and clear."

Navigating their way through the uncharted system had proved challenging even with assistance from the Alliance, and it was at least half a day with fuel consumption reduced to a bare minimum before familiar territory loomed into view. Nobody on board had to speak out loud to make the exhilaration felt at the sight of the Rebel Base clear, because they all felt it- a home, whatever they considered home, a base, which they had thought they would never see again after Scarif. Closer to touching down, the interior of the ship filled with phantom images of the crew that originally left the Base on that ship. The realization struck harder that less than a handful returned now. Cassian, Melshi and Sefla had experienced the feeling before–but it wasn't a feeling that became mechanic, that you got used to. And none of their previous missions had proven as mortal as Scarif.

It was commotion on the ground where the ship touched down. What kind of welcome were they going to receive? By any chance were they going to be told that their sacrifice was in vain, that the Death Star plans had not reached the Alliance?

"Cassian," said Jyn as they stood before the lowering hatch, fear and dread threatening to creep into her words. "What if..."

Surprising even himself, the captain slipped his hand into hers, their leather gloves clenching. "We succeeded," he assured her, assured himself. "We succeeded."

"Come on, man," said Melshi, supporting him from his free side with an arm hooked around his broken back while Jyn took the other side. "Home at last."

The crowds kept their distance, leaving room for prepared teams of medics, but Jyn noted that the rebels maintained a respectful silence in the sidelines. That silence was for everyone who wasn't stepping out with them. It was infinitely more important to acknowledge their sacrifice rather than a hero's welcome, although many rushed to the front to salute their returning comrades.

Jyn and Melshi helped Cassian onto a stretcher before themselves following the team of medics. She was glad to be inside the medbay. It gave her a hope she hadn't actually felt since their departure to Scarif.

She'd rather be in medbay than before the Alliance High Command.

She wasn't examined for longer than a few minutes, but she stayed back as the others were strapped into bunks and patted over with bacta patches. Cassian was stripped of his shirt and she caught sight of his visibly damaged backbone for the first time- blue, black and fractured. She stepped away from the activity and lowered herself onto a cluttered bench. Medbay was full. There were still the rebels who'd fought over Scarif being treated for various battle scars. Many looked her way now with expressions she couldn't read. Shock that she was alive? Admiration? Did they blame her for their losses?

Deciding she couldn't take any more of whatever it was, Jyn stood up and walked out of the medbay with only a couple of backward glances. She was hit by the overwhelming need to find someplace secluded. Someplace far away from the staring faces and even further away from Mon Mothma, Draven and all the rest of the authority she had blatantly disobeyed for a mission that had gone so wrong and so... _right_. But they had no news of the plans. Right was an assumption. Too many lives had been lost. Wrong was a fact and confirmed. 

_Get a grip_ , she told herself.  _You've gone through worse. Now is not the time to lose it._

It was a neat little lie that she'd gone through worse. But Jyn Erso had been a survivor all her life, and whatever she had gone through she had survived. This ordeal would hopefully turn out just another feather in her cap, even if most part of her had high doubts about ever getting past it.

Secluded spots weren't hard to come by in the forested moon of Yavin 4. She found an ideal place- ideal enough- to isolate herself from the bustling, currently tense activity of the Allaince base.

If Rogue One had succeeded, it meant the rebellion was saved. It meant the rebellion had a future. What part would she play in that future? 

_I'm not prepared,_ she realized.  _There are weights pulling me down. My past._

There were indeed a lot of loose ends to tie. There was Lianna Halik and the dozen other faces she'd adopted in order to survive. There were debts and old scores to settle, things that needed to be figured out. She wasn't ready for the Alliance yet.

She promised herself she would tie those loose ends in the coming months, maybe year if she had understated the number of them. And then she would dedicate what was left of her life for the cause her father had believed in, the rebels on Scarif had died for, and the cause she now considered the only anchor adding meaning to her existence.

She would fight for that cause until she died protecting it, just like she should have done on Scarif.

Barely two hours had passed when Jyn's intuition started trickling her. The activities of the Base were still going on, yes, but there seemed to be a more...urgent aura about it now. Through the spaces between the trees she saw rebel troops rush into the main building. And pilots- all the pilots who hadn't been majorly inflicted over Scarif- into the briefing room.

She started making her way out of seclusion and through the heat of the action. Her every sense was on high alert. A surge of crushed hope rose back up again in her chest when she heard the words  _Princess Leia_ and  _plans._

"Jyn Erso!" she heard a voice call. She didn't recognized it or even manage to identify the speaker, only felt a clap on the back and several words of somber congratulation. Pilots storming into the briefing room paused to shake a hand she hadn't offered. Stiff salutes were thrown her way. She didn't know how to respond to any of it but it was all over before she could envision how.

Jyn dashed into the sterilized medical bay and found the ward she was looking for. Sefla was completely knocked out, broken arm receiving a steady flow of oxygen in a suspended position. Bodhi was twitching in his sleep while bacta patches worked on various burn wounds. Melshi sat upright in the bunk beside Cassian, eyeing his unconscious comrade with unbidden worry. For a split second she dreaded the worst had happened. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest and thanked the Force for it.

"You're back," noted the Sergeant dryly.

"They got the plans," blurted Jyn, relief, joy and dread threatening to crack through her voice.

Melshi sat straighter. "They got the plans? And they're...they're going to destroy the Death Star...now?"

"That's what it looks like," said Jyn, suppressing the crushing doubt in her chest, trying stubbornly to sound assured. "They're rounding up all our pilots to explain what's in those plans."

"You know what this means, right?" Melshi clasped his hands together tightly, resting his chin on them, easing the stress from his forehead. "We've done our part. There's nothing more we can do from here. The ultimate result of our efforts and those sacrifices, relies on those pilots now."

"And may the Force be with them," muttered Jyn, sitting down on the squat table at Cassian's bedside. She looked at his unconscious form, the lines that creased his brow even while he slept and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed the artificial air of the medbay, shivering at intervals. He deserved this bit of sedated rest, at least, after all he had gone through- for the Rebellion, for  _her._ Stealing the Death Star plans had been for the Rebellion. But climbing back up the data tower after the fall that did  _this_  to him, firing at the man who had been responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life, their tight embrace on the beach as certain death leapt across to meet them...in her twenty one years of existence she hadn't known anyone who understood her needs more than the Rebellion's captain did, even though he hadn't known her for longer than two days. Maybe it was that inexplicable understanding they shared that allowed her to imagine his pain now. Absently Jyn reached for the limp hand by his side, encasing it in both of her own.

"Hey," said Melshi quietly, a smile in his voice. It was an unusual voice coming from the Sergeant. "The nurse droid said he'll be alright."

"Is he going to be able to walk again?" asked Jyn, who wasn't one to let go of reality.

Melshi laid himself flat on his bunk and pulled the thin sheet up over his frame. "I've seen that injury before. He'll be alright."

"Just like that?"

"It won't be an easy recovery, I'll guarantee that," Melshi relented with a frustrated sigh. The girl didn't want the truth honeyed and disguised. He supposed he could respect that. "There'll be difficult times. He probably won't cooperate with medical advice. But do I doubt he's going to get his way in the end?"

Jyn studied the Captain's features in the dim lighting. She had known those features for only a couple of days, tops, but she already owed him a lot. Maybe she owed him everything she had left to give. "I don't know, Sergeant. Do you?"

Melshi snorted, flicking off a fluorescent lamp that bothered the space above his bunk. "No. Not in the slightest bit."

The Alliance had very few reasons to throw parties, but their very first hard blow against the Galactic Empire was a reason well justified. She wished she didn't have to be here.

 _Not everyone knows the full story, Sergeant Erso_ , Sefla had been kind enough to come after her, sit her down and explain after she had stormed out of the briefing room without even offering a foul word as explanation. _That includes General Draven and most of those people in there who weren't happy with us. You can change things if you take up on Mothma's offer._

 _I can't do that_ , she'd said.  _Look like some kriffing hero who saved the Rebellion. What about everyone who died on Scarif? What about you and Cassian?_

Sefla ran his hands through his hair frustratedly, looking for the words.  _They can't honour us. It would...encourage insubordination in the future with others._

 _They wouldn't have got the plans if you had listened to them_ , Jyn argued, furious.

 _You have to take the medal, Jyn._

_It's selfish and doesn't respect the sacrifice everyone-_

_No. It'll put our mission in the history books. Ten years from now nobody is going to remember what happened on Scarif unless you accept a medal at the event celebrating our first victory against the Empire._

She looked at him with both doubt and belief battling for prominence in her expression.  _I shouldn't be the only one._

_Draven will have it no other way. But we need this bit at least, Sergeant. For the memory of everyone who won't be mentioned. You have to take one for the team._

She and Bodhi were taking one for the team. They were the only surviving members of Rogue One whose names would be honoured anything. Not because any real honour was in store. Because propaganda, and because people needed to see faces that inspired hope and inspired them to join in the struggle for peace and freedom in the galaxy. (Well, no faces would be entirely revealed in the official broadcasts because of the security threat, but people would still notice if the faces weren't  _clean_.)

Also, people already part of the Alliance military did not need to see faces that inspired disrespecting authority and running off on unsanctioned missions- hence Jyn and Bodhi. Only. Weren't officially part of the Alliance when they committed the crime.

Jyn Erso was representing hope. For tonight only, she looked like high society and she had been scrubbed clean, waxed and powdered. None of the battlefield grime that had stuck like a second layer of skin since Scarif remained now, and her arms and cheeks glowed with a radiance they had never before possessed. She wore an actual dress that showed the skin at her neck that been extracted of grime and the lengths of her arms that were now hairless, spotless. She hadn't been given a choice. Hope had to look good, and victory had to look absolutely stunning. It didn't help that Hope and Victory had never dealt in a dress before.

It was only twenty minutes into the party and she was shrinking further and further into her preferred corner, desperate now to catch a glimpse of familiar faces. She had received handshakes and several words of congratulation, but it was impossible not to feel the burn of animosity and distrust that came her way from most directions.

She had kept a constant eye on the exit double doors. It had been long enough.

Just as she turn around to head for the doors without looking back, she slammed into the chest of one of the well-dressed attendees who probably wanted her dead.

A dozen unpleasant scenarios sped through her mind in a split second, and the apology was out of her lips before she could even process the words.

"It's okay, it's okay," A familiar voice assured her quickly. "Are you alright?"

She pulled at the cartilage in her nose, which had collided hard, while over her hand she looked at the person she had slammed into. "Bodhi!"

The pilot smiled awkwardly. "Thank the Force. I didn't think you'd recognize me with all the sweat gone."

Despite the throb in her nose, Jyn had to chuckle at that. "Clean suits you," she teased.

"You look amazing," Bodhi said without reservation, offering her a sincere smile minus the reluctance of before. He had also been given good clothes and a makeover. She knew she wasn't imagining it: his face was several shades lighter than it had been on Jedha and after Scarif. His hair had been throughly rinsed to deprive it of the sweat and blood that had dried on the strands over the past few weeks, and his burn wounds had been patched up for the most part and blended with his skin.

"I look uncomfortable," she corrected, grinning. She held out a folded arm.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No one will notice."

Bodhi laughed, hooking his arm around hers. "Okay. But only because I don't want to go through this alone."

"Neither do I," she admitted, leading him away from their corner of near-seclusion and into the thick of the crowd, with simulataneous hopes only of not being a stationary target for the looks that burned.

The room had high walls and plenty of breathing space even though it accommodated most personnel on the Base and a couple of distinguished invitees as well, so moving wasn't a problem. Avoiding those personnel proved difficult. The looks followed them.

She should never have agreed to this. Did High Command really believe that the daughter of the Death Star's engineer and an Imperial defector could inspire hope in people? They had already made enough enemies. And now they were going to be honoured for it, a slap in the face for the people who believed that their unsanctioned mission had brought the rebellion nothing but pain. They would make more enemies tonight.

"How's Cassian doing?" Bodhi asked her quietly as they wandered without aim, keeping their senses on high alert.

She tried to keep her voice from quavering as she spoke. "He's been in bacta for the past two days, unconscious. The medical droids aren't letting me in, but they predict he'll be fit enough to walk in about a month's time."

Bodhi started. "A  _month?_ "

Jyn bit her lip and nodded tersely. It was all the answer she could supply.

She suddenly reversed her grip so that she was the one clutching his forearm, and she clutched tight like some kind of warning signal. He tried to follow her stare in alarm, but she quickly glanced the other way and hurdled him in that direction. They hadn't made it far when a voice made Jyn stop.

"Well, if it isn't the only debtor to ever rip me off," someone said smugly from behind them. "Doesn't look like you've forgotten those six hundred credits plus interest either, Kestrel."

Jyn sighed, consenting grudgingly to this turn of events before turning around. Bodhi followed suit, unsure what to expect.

It was a young man about Jyn's age, maybe Cassian's, dressed in a jacket and shirt that looked like everyday attire except for being buttoned up, with only slightly combed hair and a superior smirk.

"I'm the only one?" Jyn asked sarcastically. "Forgive me if that's hard to believe."

If the man was offended, he covered it well behind an even wider smirk. "Don't think I'm still hung up on that money, darling. I have a load enough to buy out Jabba's palace now. I actually just wanted to ask what you're doing here."

Jyn didn't drop her poisonous glare. "I could ask you the same thing, Solo."

"Never pegged you as the type to throw your lot in with these people," Solo commented in response, wholly ignoring her inquiry.

Jyn's scowl intensified. "You knew me for less than seven days."

"After which you disappeared into space with six hundred credits plus interest owed. I could pretty much guess. Why am I meeting you now?" 

"Why am  _I_  meeting you now, smuggler?"

Solo scoffed. "Sweetheart, are you seriously telling me you haven't been hearing my name around this place for the past five days?"

Bodhi wrapped a hand protectively around Jyn's forearm, though he wasn't sure if the protection was for her or himself.

She still looked cold enough to freeze Mustafar over. "No. Don't call me sweetheart."

The man rolled his eyes with obvious incredulity at her expression. "I  _distinctly_  remember saying I didn't want the money."

"Come on," muttered Jyn, turning in the other direction while he still held onto her. "We're not sticking around him."

The crowd grew thick in front of them, so they were stranded in the spot for a second too long.

"Who is she?" someone asked curiously.

"Girl who ripped me off of some good money a long time ago," Solo snorted. "I said we were square, but she didn't like me anyway."

"I'm betting you weren't very nice," his friend quipped. "Hey, miss...?"

Jyn dropped her head and drew in a long, deep, infuriated sigh. She crossed her arms and turned that way again. "May I help you?" she asked a little less-than-patiently.

"Listen, I'm sorry if Han was being a jerk," the blonde boy said earnestly. He outstretched a hand, offering a smile. "Luke Skywalker."

She shook the hand, masking her reluctance, and wondered which one of her many aliases she would go by. Considering that her name would be ceremoniously read out anyway, it wasn't a question. "Jyn Erso."

A slow change came across Luke's face when the name rang a bell. She let go of his hand and almost rolled her eyes. There starts another blame game.

Han raised an eyebrow. "Force's sake, Kestrel, you have another one?"

"She's  _Jyn Erso_ ," Luke hissed, unexpectedly. "Have some respect."

"I knew a Kestrel Dawn and  _she_ certainly didn't warrant my respect," Han scoffed a tad petulantly, but didn't say beyond that for the sake of curiosity.

She would've snapped something nasty at him if she wasn't still taken aback by Luke's defending of her name. That wasn't something that happened everyday.

Bodhi stepped in and held out a hand. "You're the pilot who..."

"...blew up the Death Star," Luke finished cheerfully, shaking his hand. Somehow he had said it. The dreaded name of the Empire's weapon that Galen had spent most part of his life building, and rigging. Normally mention of the name brought back painful memories, nightmares. Luke's words only brought back memory of the video footage he'd seen of it exploding in streaks across the evening sky.

"Right. Of course," Bodhi hastily withdrawed, glancing at Jyn and praying this wasn't too much for her to take in at once. He had been on his feet for four days since the incident, and had spent most of it in the mess hall and with the friendlier technicians who were willing to show him the ships they were repairing, probably unaware of his history or the Imperial cargo pilot he had previously been. He had caught bits and pieces of the news being whispered around the base, in the mess, among the technicians. He knew a few names and what was being credited to them. Jyn, however, had spent that time period on her feet and arguing with the protocol droids in medbay, pacing the sterilized hallways, snatching her chances to sit at Cassian's bedside and talk quietly to his sedated form. More than once he had joined her outside the ward, but she had never been in the spirit for more than two words at a time.

She only nodded wearily, managing a half-smile. He imagined the thoughts playing in her head. He imagined that, just like him, she was only glad it was over, that Galen's work and Scarif and all the lost lives had paid off in the end. "Thank you," she said simply, meaning it for everyone who couldn't be here today.

"We could never have done it without you," returned Luke, who was apparently not very good with understanding the gravity behind words. "I heard a lot about your mission and all the risks you took. I would love to meet the rest of your team."

She wasn't angry, but her heart ached at the reminder of how many of them there used to be and she found herself remembering everyone possible. Chirrut. Baze. _Little sister._  K2. Still she swallowed down the surge of emotion and, smiling, thrust Bodhi forward by the shoulders.

"You're the  _pilot!_ " exclaimed Luke.

"I'm...the pilot," Bodhi confirmed uncertainly.

Luke was soon enough talking X-wings and hyperdrive brands, occasionally throwing in questions about the mission that brought him to the Rebellion while Bodhi tried his level best to keep up. Jyn met Han Solo's stare from over their heads.

"I heard about the mission to get those plans, but  _you_ were a part of it?"

He sounded more disbelieving now than stuck-up, but Jyn wasn't willing to let go just yet. "I still don't know what you're doing here."

Han rolled his eyes. "Honey,  _I_ was a part of the mission that blew up that thing. And we rescued the Princess. You're welcome."

She stared him down for a moment and processed this. It seemed so unlike the smuggler she'd known in a previous life, but then again she had only known him as well as he'd known her.

She finally offered a hand. "Well then, I think it's time I had some respect for you."

He grunted at the choice of words, but smirked nevertheless and shook it. "And I for you, hon, but don't expect me to be a generous creditor and let you get away with any future swindlings."

Even though they spent the next half hour in conversation with familiar faces- Luke, Han, and Aren a while later- the night didn't drag on long enough before Jyn started to feel the pang of apprehension churning in her stomach. Bodhi must have felt it too, when she'd answered that they were scheduled to receive their medalsany moment now, because he had wanted to go over to a corner table and sit with a drink, preferably an indelible energy shot that he could later throw up while he regretted ever having survived Scarif.

A garrison of uniformed soldiers were moving into formation up front, making room in the middle for an aisle. A procession was heading for the stage at the end of it. From their corner they couldn't make out much.

"Come on," Jyn said quietly, tugging his arm. "We need to know what's happening."

They found seats in the fifth row behind one of the formations. It was a long distance off from the stage and they still couldn't see much, but it meant the others seated with them hadn't noticed them yet.

A member of High Command whom Jyn found vaguely familiar from her three times in the conference room delivered an address on courage, endurance and hope, how the three had brought the rebellion its first major victory against the Empire. A moment of silence was called for in difference to all the lives that had been sacrificed, either in the battles that had lead up to this victory or under the Empire's rule. Scarif and the Death Star plans were mentioned. Another council member stepped up to deliver the rest of the story.

The crowd turned especially affectionate as the Princess walked to the front, dressed as elegantly as Jyn had ever seen. She thanked her rescuers. Luke and Han were bestowed medals well deserved.

Jyn reached across the armrest and found Bodhi's hand, the anxiety easing off her shoulders the slightest bit when she remembered there would be someone else to share her pain with her.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's get this over with."

She didn't even have the time to half-smile before a uniformed Corporal appeared at the end of their row, across from the six or seven people who sat with them. He gestured a little more urgently than she felt was strictly necessary. They had just squeezed their way out of the row it was revealed why.

"Sergeant Erso, we have a change of plans."

Jyn furrowed her brow slightly. "What change?"

"I don't know," said the Corporal, starting to lead them along a side of the garrison, where their urgency would not get noticed. "But I was told to inform you to be prepared for some of the things you'll hear on stage."

It didn't sound good. Bodhi crossed his arms arms his chest to restrain his suddenly alarmed heartbeat. "Why would they ask us to be prepared for that?"

"Everyone's busy," the Corporal shook his head. "Nobody had the time to explain. Now smile, please."

They hadn't noticed they were already at a corner of the stage, close enough to see the light dancing off the members of the Princess's procession. Already they were being ushered where everybody would be able to see them.

Jyn almost gracelessly stumbled onto the raised platform, and would have even fallen if Bodhi hadn't had the quick reflex to grasp her elbow. Not looking up, not wanting to see the faces staring their way, she moved with quick steps. From a reasonable enough corner of the stage she dared to lift her head, just slightly. Bodhi was staring straight ahead.

The look on his face made her snap to look forwards, hoping, guessing, dreading. Beyond the orderly garrison were the various personnel of the rebellion- she could only see them because they were standing.

A tall figure in white swept into the space ahead of them and took a stand behind the podium. Jyn recognized the commanding way in which she stood, short red hair fixed neater than her own.

Subconsciously Jyn reached up to tuck one of several loose strands behind her ear, wishing she hadn't given her hairdresser such a difficult time.

The lighting shone too brightly in her face, and she almost felt panic at seeing the empty space beside her. No, not empty space. Just distance. Bodhi fidgeted with his hands behind his back a couple of feet away from arm's length. She was not alone.

"...the courage to risk everything even with the odds stacked against them," Mothma was saying. "But were it not for this foolish courage the Empire will have further tightened its iron grip on the galaxy, the Death Star will have had the means to bring further destruction, and the rebellion will have been crushed. For those reasons the Alliance believes that every honour we have to offer, we owe to the Rogue One squadron."

A bolt of electricity shot up her spine and she jolted. Her hands trembled behind her back, uncontrollably, her eyes widened and shook. The open skin at her neck was prickling at an impossible rate, and her knees were suddenly weak.

This was not the original plan.

She had been at the meeting. A majority of High Command hadn't been in agreement with honouring the whole squadron. That was why she had abruptly left in the first place.

"We all feel the loss of Jedha City and Alderaan," Mothma recounted, lowering her eyes a fraction. "And it is no secret that we normally put the blame where we can see it. I know that people among the Alliance still blame Galen Erso for the construction of the Death Star and all it took away from us."

Unexpected. Entirely unexpected. She wasn't prepared for this, to hear her father's story again. She had spent too many years of her life _hating_ her father, digesting Saw's intel that Galen was a _bastard_ working for the people who had killed her mother. Everything he had done he had done to protect her, and she had hated him for it. 

"But the facts are clear before us today and as those facts present, the Empire is the only name we can hold accountable for the mass destruction we witnessed in the past weeks. Galen spent twenty years of his life in treason against the Empire, not the Alliance. It was the flaw he built into the Death Star that allowed us to destroy it and save others from the fate of Alderaan and Jedha city."

She hadn't got this far without being strong and brazen. She found her composure cracking. Her vision was starting to blur behind tears she couldn't fight back.

"In light of services rendered, the Alliance extends a full pardon and promises that the name Erso will this day forward carry only honour and respect with it."

She must have audibly sobbed, or blinked back her tears too hard, because Bodhi turned over his shoulder and offered her the slightest of acknowledging nods. She swallowed hard and nodded firmly back. The tears still threatened to spill, but it was only a dire threat at best.

Mon Mothma turned to face them, an expression akin to gentle understanding present in her features, in the crease between her brows.

"All of High Command have agreed as to what your squadron deserves, for services rendered," she said, only for them to hear.

She noted the questions they weren't asking, and smiled slightly.

"Captain Andor sent his report through. Anyone who previously thought appreciating an unsanctioned mission was bad idea asked that your team was pardoned and the mission made official, although I'm sorry there wasn't full approval for getting the others on stage tonight."

If Jyn had been shocked before, now she found herself startled and at a complete loss for words. Cassian? How had  _Cassian_  managed to write and submit a report from intensive care and a medically induced sleep? The reports from Melshi and Sefla had meant nothing, but Cassian had convinced them from inside a bacta tank?

The mission was being given official status. Rogue One was being pardoned. With that status came the declaration of the names that had sacrificed their lives in battle- names that would go into an official record, names that would become legend. The rebellion's first victory against the Empire. The team that risked impossible odds.

It was more than she could take in at once, but she forced her herself to accept it anyway and she was happy. Contented, at least. At peace.

Mothma turned back to the masses and announced in a voice that carried, "The surviving members of Rogue One will be felicitated with the highest honours of courage reserved in the Alliance. Those who sacrificed their lives for the cause will also be given the full honours and remembered this day and into the future. I salute the team behind the destruction of the Death Star-because they have taken a leap for us- towards the downfall of the Empire and the start of peace and freedom in the galaxy."

Jyn didn't know what to expect from the crowd and in light of this development she really couldn't care less.

But there was acceptance in many faces. Not all of them, but many.

Applause rose from the audience when the medals were slung around their necks.

After that the night went smoothly, even though Jyn wasn't sure whether to attribute it to the Alliance's new attitude towards them or the drunkenness that soon enough took over the majority. When Sefla turned up, drunk to the point that he was having trouble keeping the contents of his stomach, to challenge her at arm-wrestling, they decided it was time to discreetly slip away from the celebration.

They walked in silence down the deserted corridors, dimly lit now because nobody was around to use them. Only a handful of protocol droids stood guard at long intervals.

"Cassian-" started Jyn, hoping it wasn't the worst way to start a conversation after the infinite stretch of silence.

"Of course," Bodhi shook his head, smiling knowingly.

She was about to ask him what was up with that look, but they arrived at the entrance of the medical bay before she got the chance.

"Is it open to visitors at this time?" Bodhi asked only out of curiosity, because he knew she wouldn't care if it wasn't.

Jyn confirmed his suspicions. "No, but the droids here like me, and the doctors are at the party playing drinking games."

A nursing droid looked up from a reclined position when she pushed the door open. It appeared immediately dismayed.

"You again."

 _They like me_ , Jyn mouthed to Bodhi, who didn't know whether it was more appropriate to chuckle or roll his eyes. Technically they weren't supposed to be here, and they were already in hot water for disobeying regulations.

"He's in bacta," the droid said dismissively. "You're wasting your time."

This must've been the general kind of term for  _go ahead_  in the rapport Jyn had built with the droid, because she nodded and proceeded to the back of the expansive and dimly lit room, past numbered wards and bunks of which only three were occupied. After a while the droid got to its feet and followed them noisily, not at all concerned if it would wake the sleeping patients.

Cassian's frame was suspended inside the tank, illuminated eerily under the surgical lights and in the glow of the gelatinous bacta that held him. Air bubbles danced around the wall of the tank in the only real sign of movement.

"When did he wake up?" Bodhi asked the droid.

"Yesterday," it replied in a bored tone. "Noon." 

Jyn bit her lip, not looking particularly thrilled about that. "He woke up for the first time in five days and _wrote a report?_ "

"Recorded," corrected the droid. "He didn't have the strength to write."

Jyn surveyed the Captain's slacked features with her eyes, wondering how that worked. He had to be disoriented, painfully so. And confused. Out of touch. His fractured spine must have been killing him.

And his first conscious action was to record a narrative of their mission for High Command?

A highly  _effective_ narrative, as it happens, as if he had known all that was at stake, everything that was going on.

Maybe he had heard her talk to him while he slept, sedated. She knew it wasn't a possibility, but nothing else explained it either.

"He puts duty before everything, doesn't he?" commented Bodhi admiringly from beside her.

"Yeah," Jyn reached a hand out to place it on the wall of the tank, the closest she could get to touching him. A small smile started to break out on her face. "But this was one for the team."

"The patient at bunk six has been insufferable for the past week," the protocol droid reported routinely to the chief medic in charge of the ward. "Myself and the other droids in Ward Number Two would greatly appreciate it if you discharged him today."

The medic looked over a stack of forms unconcernedly. "How long has he been in here?"

"Three weeks that have felt like a decade to myself and the other droids. His infuriating behaviour is interfering with our computing systems."

The medic just went back to his paperwork. "Sounds long enough. Give him his brace and get him out of my ward."

The droid walked away, as satisfied as a droid could get. He rapped on the cubicle wall that surrounded this patient and two empty bunks. The response was immediate.

"Do you have good news?" Captain Andor called from inside, and by the sound of it he was swinging off the side of his bed - most  _inappropriate_ considering his condition - and pulling on a shirt. 

"For me and for you, Captain. You are being discharged today."

The Captain slid open the cubicle door at once. "You're serious?"

"Yes," he eyed the annoying organic life form with as much disdain as a droid could muster. "But you are not allowed to leave without the brace the doctors designed for you. And I am to inform you that no field missions must be undertaken until doctor's notice."

Cassian treated him to a scornful look, but gave it up and went back to gathering his things. He wasn't going to admit to the smartmouthed protocol droid or anyone that sparks of hot pain still surged up his spine when it felt a lot of pressure or that his walk was now tainted with a limp he just couldn't seem to shake off. He glared long and hard at the metal structure lying on his bedside table before picking it up resignedly.

"The doctor told me you were informed how that works," said the droid.

Shrugging off his shirt, Cassian gingerly slipped the straight plank of metal over his upper back and made the cloth straps meet around his chest and ribs. It felt stiff, unnatural. Without it he wouldn't be able to stand up free of a great amount of pressure weighing down on his spine. It wouldn't be noticed over his shirt, maybe. But the difficult manner in which he had to walk would probably be obvious from a mile off.

He left the medbay and the droids he'd grown to vehemently dislike over the past week, purposefully avoiding most of the people he regularly worked with when he had to cross the common area. Foreign as the feeling was to him, soldiers with pronounced limps weren't unusual to come by in the Alliance. He kept his senses on high alert for whatever tidbits of information he could snap off conversations- his three painful weeks of treatment had pretty much cut off most ties with current affairs. The Death Star being destroyed was the last he'd heard. Also intel of shifting base to Hoth. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. From what he'd heard of the the planet's weather, it wouldn't serve his newfound inflictions well.

 _No field missions until further notice_ , he reflected bitterly. Cassian wasn't made for ground work. Working in intelligence and working from the base was like studying scenery through a keyhole and being expected to paint a full canvas of it. With each limping footfall it started to feel more and more like ground intelligence was the direction in which he was headed.

From his survey of the overcrowded common areas he didn't catch sight of any of his fellow survivors of Scarif save for Sefla, whom he didn't feel all that inclined to approach because even across the room the Lieutenant's half-grin promised a volley of merciless jibes. Insufferable, that man. More than Cassian used to give him credit for.

Speaking of which, Jyn wasn't anywhere around either, so the disgruntled Captain made for his own private quarters instead. If anything the brief period spent investigating the common areas had drilled into him just how serious the nurse droid's warning was- his limp more than  _looked_  pronounced, it  _felt_ like dead weight being dragged a mile to just walk. He slid the door behind him and flicked on a single dim light before slumping down on the bunk that he was suddenly glad was placed close to door. He played this thought several times over in his head. If he didn't have the strength or the willpower to walk from _his door to his bed..._

Cassian leaned against the wall and gathered his knees close together, telling himself that the pain in his backbone was nothing, that he felt nothing. It wasn't like the doctors had said he  _wouldn't_  be able to venture out into the field again. He just had to give it time. In a little bit of time it would all be fine, and his service to the Rebellion wouldn't be limited to painting what he saw of the galaxy through a keyhole.

A little bit of time. A couple of years maybe.

Cassian grunted, forcing himself to the edge beside the plastic crater in which his personal possessions- as personal as they got- were haphazardly stashed. Utility belts, collector's blasters, various odds and ends for ship parts, startup chips...nothing that a  _ground intelligence_ officer would find useful, but a stash of jewels as far as the field was concerned. Maybe this one time he should work against his better judgement. Find one of the lenient medics, maybe. He might get the go-ahead to do  _real_  work in a little less time than was officiated. 

His rummaging through the crate had spilled a lot of the smaller items over, but he was glad for the opportunity of stubbornly gritting his teeth against the pain and hunching over to pick up the pieces. Starter chips of a dozen or so freighters he'd hijacked over the years, memory sticks, batteries...

His fingers closed around a minute memory chip, surprised he had picked it up in the dark. He habitually felt for the initials scraped into the surface. K...2...

" _Force,"_ breathed Cassian, feeling his fist clench around the precious piece like a lifeline.

He grabbed it off the floor along with a jacket, tucking it deep into one of the pockets inside. Not feeling the ache in his arms at all, not one bit, he slipped the sleeves over his shirt and yanked the zipper all the way to his chin, forgetting the tight harness around his upper body. And he was out of his quarters without shutting the door behind him, an oversight he had never made in all his years serving the Rebellion.

He dashed back into the public area without even feeling his left leg like dead weight. There were several ships parked inside with repairs being done on them, but a majority of Alliance officers were making their way to the meal hall. He avoided the glances being thrown his way. He probably looked like a medbay-escapee at the moment, which wasn't very far off the mark. 

Where was the ship? Where was that blasted ship? He knew for a fact that they hadn't discarded it in spite of its scrapyard-winning condition. For reasons he couldn't understand Jyn had personally appealed to Leia Organa herself that it was allowed a shot at repair when the towing boys had ignored the request. He had not seen her during the one week he'd spent conscious and in unnecessary bedrest–  _or ever since we landed from Scarif_  –but Taidu Sefla had gleefully kept him updated on her little acts of vigilantism for no price at all but the automatic scowl he was treated to everytime the phrase  _your girl_ came up.

It caught his eye. Not in the scrapyard, no, but with sparks flying off the hull that was being reinforced. Only a single pilot worked on it. Just the pilot Cassian wanted to see at the moment.

"Bodhi!" he called, trudging forward without letting his limp show. Not at a moment like this. Now was crucial.

"Captain?" the pilot asked in greeting, surprised. He pulled down his full-face mask and set aside the hullwork flame so his puzzlement was conveyed. "Aren't you...er, aren't you supposed to be in medbay?"

"I'm officially out of there now," informed Cassian with a slight shrug of the shoulders. Casual. Like the affliction in his backbone and legs didn't mean his world was caving in on itself.

Bodhi responded with a couple of careful nods. He could see where the conversation was headed. Cassian Andor didn't look like a relieved man just out of medbay and simply glad to be alive. "That's great. Pretty great. We were starting to get a little worried."

"And I have clearance for ground work."

Of course, his assumption hit the mark. Bodhi frowned in question like this wasn't suspected from the beginning. "So soon?"

Ignoring the skepticism, Cassian rested his back against Rogue One's screeched hull. "Have you been occupied these past few days?"

"No, just flying ships and fixing things," Bodhi shook his head, because he wasn't going to be distracted that easily. "You're really cleared for ground work?"

The Captain answered this question with one of his own. "Are you up for a partnership assignment?"

The pilot immediately snorted, picking up the hullwork flame and switching it on. "No way, Cassian. Jyn told me to watch out for you while she wasn't around. And I can clearly see that limp you're trying to hide."

"Look, Jyn wouldn't..." Cassian kneaded his forehead tiredly. What did she care so much about? Why did she have to care? It didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. The last time she'd seen him he was probably shivering to his teeth in a bacta tank attached to life support. In his mind that was a long time ago, and he was more than capable of  _simple field work_ today in spite of what the medics and their nursing droids and Jyn assumed of him. "She wouldn't mind this assignment. I can stick to the flying if that makes you comfortable."

Bodhi considered this only for a moment before going back to his work. "Even if you were okay for an assignment, neither one of us can take another unsanctioned mission. General Draven and anybody who still doesn't believe Scarif was justified are watching our backs."

Cassian could already feel the brief respite from having found the chip being mercilessly crushed under the weight of authority, of duty, of a possibility he had known all along but refused to acknowledge. Would this have to wait?

He felt the chip's presence, small, entirely significant, secure inside the space of his pocket. He felt the maddening absence at his shoulder that a month of dreamless sleep hadn't managed to cure.

When would he get another chance?

Cassian held his breath and played his card, wishing there was a better way of going about it, but knowing that his years of practiced lying and negotiating would yield results. "I am indebted to you for both myself and the Rebellion, Bodhi, and nothing I do will ever be enough to pay off those debts. But you also know what debt feels like. What would you give to pay off a debt like that, for a friend?"

The fire went off and the pilot looked at him. It was one of the most frank stares he had ever been treated to, and considering his experience that was saying something. "There are a very few people I owe so much to," he said quietly. "Most of them are gone."

Cassian reached out to squeeze his shoulder, but not for the sake of his method. "I'm not asking you to do this for me," he said truthfully. "And I wouldn't ask you in the first place if it wasn't a low-key, low-risk mission with a ninety percent chance of success. We'll just drop in at an Imperial scrapyard, scavenge what we can."

Bodhi snapped to look at him, the Jedhan's eyes wide with realization. "There's a way to...bring him...really?"

"Would you do it for him?"

He could see the dust and the sand hurricane around him as NiJedha crumbled to nothing in seconds. His mind was addled and he wasn't the one flying the ship that saved his neck.

"Yes," said Bodhi, not remembering when he had ever sounded so certain. "But we are not telling Jyn about this."

The Base at Yavin 4 only increased in activity when the shift started, and the cargo pilots only grew busier and greater in number while the common areas flooded with creates of weaponry and surveillance equipmet being moved out. The location of the next base was highly classified, need-to-know information, but she and most others had got word of mouth that it wasn't nearly as charming as the current base. She would miss the shift anyway. It was her teammates- and especially the ones still on the road to recovery- whom she was concerned about.

Despite her small stature Jyn didn't find it easy navigating through the bustling crowd. She knocked sideways into too many people to keep on apologizing. But when in the distance she finally caught sight of the person she was looking for she almost wished she hadn't. Jyn was a realist. She knew it when she wasn't preared to say or do something.

Still, she steeled herself and pushed forward, squeezing through the tiny gaps between the crowd.

Cassian appeared in light conversation with someone she couldn't make out, probably because the other person was standing behind a wall and out of her sight. Cassian and  _light conversation?_  She almost couldn't belive it. But he looked like eternities of stress and hard labour had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked...younger, somehow. It almost felt sacrilegeous to interrupt.

 _You're just making excuses_ , her realistic side pointed out distastefully.  _That's cowardice right there. What are you afraid of? There's nothing he can do, even if he wanted to._

Why would he want to? Scarif was done with. They were free to go their own separate ways again.

She steeled herself and approached him, carefully.

Cassian noticed her first, but he looked up with a smile she'd only seen twice before. As she neared he gestured at the person behind the wall to keep quiet, a most unusual, snippy gesture. He crossed his arms when they were the only ones standing in the corner space. Them and the mysterious...wall-personality, that is.

"Cassian," she started, not wanting to make this any more drawn-out than it had to be. "We need to talk."

The Captain didn't appear unduly worried by her tone of voice. "Of course. There's someone I'd like you to meet first, though."

Jyn was about to object, say that what she had to tell him was serious, but on his cue a seven-foot-tall Imperial KX model droid stepped out from behind the wall.

She stumbled several steps back. She met the droid's bright yellow-ring eyes and stared into its alarmingly familiar features.

"Does she honestly not recognize this as the same body I had before?" he asked Cassian. 

The  _voice._  The  _attitude_. There was only one droid she had ever known to sound so  _infuriating_ , and there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

"Target practice!" exclaimed Jyn, grabbing the droid's metal fingers in her own. She didn't think twice about wrapping their erstwhile friend in a crushing embrace that didn't reach much above his hip. "How?"

"Did she and I become friends?" K-2SO asked Cassian, looking his way for an answer. "There is a significant thirty percent improvement in her attitude towards me since the last time we spoke."

Jyn pushed her lithe frame away from the droid's hulking chasis and joined him in looking to Cassian for an explanation.

"I had Kay's personality and memory backed up on a chip I kept at the base," he told her. "I made it his responsibility, eventually. He updated it on a regular basis. I'd completely forgotten about it. Turns out the last time he updated was...right before we went to Scarif."

There was some silence at the reminder. There would always be.

"Kaytoo knew it could have been the end," said Cassian quietly. "He knew, but there was also that point five percent chance we would make it. That's why he updated it, I guess. Just in case we made it, and he didn't."

He shook his head, shrugging off the memory and the pain that came with it, turning to face her fully. "What was it you wanted to say?"

Jyn suddenly felt the weight of doubt and dread on her shoulders once again. He really had no idea, then? Not even Bodhi had conveyed it to him? No, of course not. She hadn't asked anyone to make her explanations for her. She kind of regretted that now. "Right," she averted her eyes, a little in Kaytoo's direction, although she didn't expect much assistance from that quarter. "I should have told you earlier, but you weren't in the best condition."

The droid tilted his head at her slightly, accurately predicting the direction in which this was headed.

"With the Rebellion I've found something to live for," she started hastily. "To die for. But..."

"But?"

"But I have some unfinished business," she buried her fists into her jacket pockets, not exactly taking her eyes off Kaytoo. "Loose ends to tie. I'm not...ready for the Rebellion. Not yet. I'm going to have to return to my previous lives for a while before I can officially become a part of this fight."

She didn't have to be looking his way to notice the change in his expression, the slight drop of the smile around his lips. "People believe you're dead, Jyn. Doesn't that tie up all loose ends?"

"People believed I was dead a long time ago. It's my other identities I'm concerned about. Those are the loose ends I have to tie," Jyn brought herself to meet his eyes. "There are...enemies I've made, debts I have to settle. I can't join the Alliance as Jyn Erso until Tanith and Lianna and all the rest of my identities are killed off."

Cassian didn't respond for the longest while. He rubbed his eyes in, formulating a reply but not speaking, the air between them growing thick and unbreathable with each passing second.

K-2SO tilted his head a little closer to her ear. "Do you want to know the chances that your latest choice isn't being taken well by the captain?"

Cassian looked up at his revived droid with barely restrained annoyance. "Shut up, Kay. Jyn, I understand. It has to be done. Minimizes a lost of risks in the future."

Kaytoo nodded in his own wise way. "Yes, he's definitely not taking it well."

"Do you want me uploading you into a sweeper droid's body?" hissed Cassian. He shook his head, looking back Jyn's way. "When will you be leaving?"

"Lieutenant Sefla is willing to fly me out tomorrow," she replied. "Only tomorrow, so..."

"I see," murmured Cassian, stuffing his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips lightly. "And when will you be back?"

"As soon as I possibly can," said Jyn, an honest promise, the best she could currently afford. "But if you need me any earlier than that, you're welcome to come find me."

Cassian nodded, considering. "Sounds fair enough. Where do I look?"

Jyn laughed a little. "Intelligence officer, aren't you?"

He couldn't resist. He had to chuckle at that. "Alright, Erso. I'll keep close tabs on you."

Jyn reached out to wrap her arms around his back, even if she had to stand on her toes to match their heights. "Goodbye, Cassian."

Cassian returned the hug without question.

"I'll see you soon, Stardust," he returned, appreciating the feeling of her hands on his spine, the familiar clutch at his jacket's billowy fabric. For a brief moment he stopped hearing the noise of the base around them and didn't suffer the pain in his back. With Jyn it was easy to forget everything else existed, like on Scarif when he'd been able to push thoughts of the Death Star aside to only focus on this significant, diminutive figure that symbolized everything he had lived for.

He felt her stand straighter in his arms and regretted the nickname.

But Jyn only slipped from him and threw a mock salute his way, a grin on her features before she disappeared into the crowd again. She called back a few words he didn't manage to catch, but the unheard words somehow stayed adrift in the distance between them, over the heads of the cargo pilots and military personnel.

"You're smiling," observed Kaytoo.

Cassian scoffed, covering up the bout of self-consciousness that came with snapping back to his senses. "So your circuits work well enough to identify."

The droid shrugged his partially thin, partially bulky frame. "I merely wish to inform you of the possibilty that you've grown attached to the Erso girl."

The Captain treated his longtime friend to his trademark threatening scowl, a scowl that had actual years of real threat behind it. "One more unrequested observation, Kay, and it's the sweeper droid for you."

"Do you deny it?" asked the droid nonchalantly.

Cassian veered away from their corner so he could snatch a blaster from a passing weapons trolley. "How equipped are you to survive something like Hoth?"

"Better than you are," replied K2, who'd always had the attention span of a desert-dwelling bantha. "My bodywork is corrosion, fire and cold-weather resistant, and I also come equipped with a de-frosting feature that would be most advantageous in snow or blizzard conditions, which the integrated network informs me is relatively commonplace on Hoth."

"I'm only going to say this once, Kay," admitted Cassian at last, allowing himself a rare smile. Those smiles were few and reserved for unguarded moments, like an unexpected rebel victory or the return of a comrade long declared dead. In recent years, though, the ex-Imperial droid had got his fair share of that smile on dizzy nights when the Captain had risky emergency painkillers flowing through his veins that rendered him practically wasted. Kaytoo's duty those nights was to hide their ship and make sure Cassian didn't shoot the wrong person- or several people, depending on his dosage- while the medication did its work. Yes, they were a team, and they were back together. "But I missed you. I really did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N; I love Kay and I wouldn't write this story without him. More insight to his relationship with Cassian plus memories of Scarif coming up soon, but the plot is going to develop into another high-risk mission because who doesn't want to see the team back in action?
> 
> Please review :)!


	4. (Definitely) Under Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of rookie rebels are intercepted, Jyn triggers a firefight and Cassian misses her more than he cares to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a HUGE thank you for all your support! Much appreciation for my reviewers, followers, favourites and readers- may the Force be with all of you!
> 
> Note: Some planet names in this fic are made up (the one in this chapter for instance) and details of Jyn's and Cassian's pasts are from the limited bit we know plus some improvisation- BUT when I get my hands on Rebel Rising (and I assure you I WILL, soon enough), the Cassian & K-2SO comic and Inferno Squad (Disney's still taking my money for R1 material and I'm very happy about it) are released, I will be making alterations and turning this fic real authentic. Until then, enjoy the ride!:)

####  Six months later 

The dashboard lights flickered like blinking eyes, rapid and panicked, while a klaxon blared from the rear of the ship and bathed the crew in shifting red light. The blue streaks of hyperspace started by the cockpit windows but cut off in a split second. Instead the ominous recess of empty space spread out around them, too many directions, vast, endless, offering nowhere to hide or no cover if they chose to run.

Corporal Elies stood by the pilot's shoulder with a firm determination in his eyes and a set jaw; he wasn't especially calm on the inside, but he put up this front that was beneficial to his crew. "Can we get the hyperdrive back to work?"

The pilot, a rookie and younger than most, was pale in the glow of the overhead lights. Or maybe he really was pale, and it had more to do with valiantly repressed fear. "N-No. No, sir, there's a problem with the command signal from the computer. The hyperdrive isn't picking it up."

Elies muttured a curse under his breath, but he didn't let his composure crack. "Nothing actually wrong with the hyperdrive?"

"It only got our signal halfway. That's why we couldn't make the jump."

The Corporal clapped the young pilot on his shoulder, briefly noting the tensed muscle beneath, before turning to the rest of his crew who waited without orders, silent.

"Borisk, Orchre, go down to the engine room and get working on it. Everyone else, battlestations. We're expecting some company."

The thirteen men and women he faced all nodded in muted agreement, and proceeded with an unnerving kind of resigned calm like they'd already accepted their fate.

Elies didn't blame them. He was only this driven because he was in charge of the other lives on board, and while many of his crew were on their first big mission, he wouldn't call himself particularly experienced either.

It was his sixth big mission. It was his first time being in charge.

The klaxon stopped, then started again. It wasn't a warning about the hyperdrive this time. Another fleet had been caught by the ship's radar.

And soon enough it was all too real and very difficult to keep calm. An Eta-Interceptor leading a squadron of TIE fighters emerged behind them from hyperspace. The fleet drifted in silence for an entire ten seconds like a promise of death. Ten seconds didn't give them enough time to fix the hyperdrive and make another jump, but it was about enough time for the crew to man their stations and open fire on the offending fleet.

The volley that struck back was greater in magnitude and did more in damage to their freighter, rocking it, sending shockwaves rippling through the metal railings.

"Making the jump is our only chance," he told the pilot, before making his way across to where his crew wrestled with the on-board canons. A TIE fighter went up in flames. The explosion caught the wing of another fighter.

Elies had had no illusions about his crew's abilities, but he found himself being mercifully proven wrong.

In spite of its size the freighter did tumultuous maneuvers around the enemy fire that spat at them from all directions. The hull was hit twice, the floor lurched and a part of the tail end was blown off in a blossom of orange flame. But they weren't dead yet.

The interceptor led the remaining fighters- three of them- in an effective loop that circled them, surrounded their bulky freighter and cut off every one of the routes that led to vast, endless space.

And there was a clack and a loud hiss as the interceptor reappeared beside the hatch of their cargo hold.

"The hyperdrive!" the young pilot crowed from the cockpit. "It's back online!"

Elies felt his knees weaken, his feet numb. Every footstep to the front of the ship felt like something out of a waking dream, except there was no waking from this one.

"It's too late," he said, and guilt, wrecked conscience, fear broke out in his voice for the first time.

The pilot didn't hear him and clutched the lever to make the jump. He grabbed the younger man's shoulder sharply.

"Try that now and we're all dead."

The pilot didn't look ready to accept this. "We have one shot."

A clack and a hiss.

Elies closed his eyes and breathed hard, not wanting to face his crew and see their reactions.

"They're boarding. If we try to hold them off, or prepare for the jump, the other ships are going to blow us into space."

"One shot-" the young pilot started to plead.

"I've been in this situation before, kid," said Elies regretfully. "I know what will happen if we try either of those. I wasn't captain of the ship that time, but I'm going to learn from my captain's mistake."

"We must have some chance," the pilot protested weakly. " _Something_ , Corporal."

"An encrypted message taking a long cut to the Alliance," replied Elies, with all the quiet calmness of before. "We have three essential persons and no lullaby pills on board. That'll be enough to prompt them, hopefully."

"Roger that," replied the pilot, feeling his gut clench into a tight knot. Not because the lack of suicide pills was a lie, but because the blast doors to the central compound of the ship were starting to screech and give way to pressure being applied from the other side and shouts rang from the Imperial officers about to make an entrance.

###### 

#####  Leton 

Oddly pitched and horribly out-of-tune music rippled across the air, giving the tight space an even more claustrophobic feel. It was one of those bars that didn't get crowded for good service or good company or the like- it was only crowded for the cheap prices and only patroned by the lowest of the low, the bottom rungs of Leton's underworld. The singing and swearing of gambling circles made for consistent levels of noise, making it difficult for the auditary senses to keep focused. Jyn paid rapt attention with her eyes, looking from time to time over the rim of her mug at just one particular group of gamblers.

Quelling the tight knots of anticipation in her stomach, she made a move to slide out of her seat slowly.

One of the men of the gambling ring, an alien with leathery green skin, stood up while maintaining conversation for cover.

She squeezed her way past a bunch of Volpais, stone drunk, and casually headed for the door.

Soon enough she was taking quick steps down a crowded street on market day, and one glance over her shoulder confirmed that the whole group was following from a distance behind. Her momentary distraction was enough to cause her a misstep, and several bodies slammed into her when they walked past. The foot traffic was suddenly faster in her ears and louder, closer, then...

Jyn hauled herself to her feet and kept going, head ducked, painfully slow in the unbreathable path she tried to clear for herself. The men weren't far behind her. She wasn't sure how far, but the commotion rising from a few feet behind indicated it wasn't very far. The crowds were pulling apart in different directions. Not wanting to become an easy target, Jyn darted into one of the clusters that broke from the main body. Vocal arguments started between the vendors and prospective buyers. She was at the very back of the group.

The aliens from the bar had got sidetracked, but they now headed for her, determinedly shoving bodies out of their path. Jyn listened to instinct and dodged into a connecting road, hoping it didn't lead to a dead end.

It did.

She swore so colourfully with the language she'd picked up during her years with the Partisans that she was sure even the old prison bunkmates who'd wanted her guts would have been proud.

Jyn drew the blaster on her thigh and turned around just as six big figures, lead by a single leaner one, stepped into the mouth of the alley.

"You have cheated me out of profit for the last time, Kestrel," declared the figure at the head, a woman older than Jyn and taller, more commanding in her presence. She wore a collection of scrapped armour; Imperial parts here, bounty hunter there, odds and ends off the black market that made her look the deadly weapons racketeer she was. Two heavy blasters hung from the belt at her hip and an array of sharp metal spikes stuck out from underneath her jacket. Those who knew her knew those were daggers.

"That was last year," Jyn called, not backing down in the face of this threat.

She narrowed her dark eyes. "Then I will see to it that it doesn't happen this year." She nodded to her men. "I want her alive. Torture sounds tempting."

She turned on her heel and walked from in between her cohorts, ducking just as two crossed with their weapons and lunged for Jyn.

Her blaster clicked when she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

There was no time for fancy manuevers; on impulse Jyn dove head-first into one of the burly non-humans, winding him, before spinning around to catch the other with the butt of her blaster. The force of the impact made him stagger, uproar, and sweep at her feet with his staff.

She dodged to a side before it could work, but a new cohort caught her by the neck, hailing her five feet into the air.

The first recovered his breath and approached with restraints. He had only just started on her ankles when she grabbed at the thick hands holding her throat and used the momentum to lash out with her feet. The man with the staff made an agressive swing with his weapon and caught his comrade across the chest when Jyn hauled herself out of his way.

_You can try your luck with that, but you're no Chirrut Îmwe._

The man fell back, uttering a cry of pain, and she found herself sprawled on the ground, limbs aching.

The other three surrounded her, their shadows casting large spots of shade from Fenton's nearby sun. Jyn squinted through the sand in her eyes and groaned. So much for returning to this life with a plan.

###### 

Shackles sounded close to her ears, clinking, flimsy metal, and her first conscious sense was a soreness in every muscle, like she'd just got into a fight, lost very badly, and been strapped to the back of a speeder for a long, lurching drive.

She forced her eyes open to a dark enclosure surrounded by walls. She was chained flat to one of them.

"Kriffing hell," she muttered, noting the number of times each chain had been spun around her ankles and wrists- they were clearly not taking any chances. Large, overbearing and outdated combination locks kept each in place. Limbs spread out against the vast stone wall, it was as if she'd been made a target for a firing range.

Probably wasn't far off the mark.

She looked up to reverberating voices, noting they were coming from outside- closed corridors of stone that she herself had navigated once.

The voices halted at her door- a door that blended in seamlessly with the walls, impossible to spot without a pointer- before growing a little distant, moving away.

Jyn twisted her right wrist and stretched her fingers for the combination of the lock, barely reaching the first two digit-slots. She grunted, jerking her arm violently. The chains rattled, but didn't slip down. Her hands were red from the pressure.

She forced her back off the wall, making every one of the chains groan in their tight fixtures.

It was not easy staying away from the wall, but it wasn't an impossibility either. She struggled with the fixtures until she acquired the space to be able to crane her neck. With the side of her jaw she could reach the other two digits.

Jyn didn't have an excellent history of lock-picking. At a young age she'd learnt the basics, and with the advancement of time cultivated a considerable ability of making her way through tough ones, but things had rarely gone her way afterwards. She couldn't be discrete, Saw's rebels had told her. That was why she often got caught.

Voices by the door again. A heavy black bolt, camouflaged just seconds before, caught her eye as it started to draw back haltingly.

Jyn curled her loosened arms around the shackles and pressed her back against the wall.

The leader of the weapons-racket stood at the doorway when it was slid sideways into the wall, allowing Jyn a glimpse of the corridor beyond. More black stone and darkness. If she made it out of this prison, she'd be running blind to escape another one.

"There's no need to make things this difficult, Kestrel, you know that," she declared with only a few steps in. "All you have to do is give me the name of the person who sent you, and I'll spare the torture before your death."

Jyn snorted audibly, hoping the sound carried. "That's a crap deal and you know it."

The woman sighed in the manner of a generous host having difficulty with a particularly demanding guest. "I wouldn't be doing myself or anyone else in the trade a favour letting loose a dangerous criminal."

Jyn rolled her eyes. "How  _honourable_ of you."

"Who sent you?" she demanded, impatience showing. The two guards at her shoulders tensed at her tone of voice. "Who sent you the first time to steal from me?"

"You say that like it wasn't a thief I stole from."

"Thievery makes me a criminal, maybe, but stealing from me puts you in the category of a criminal lowlife," she hissed. "Spare yourself an agonising death and tell me what I want to know."

For a moment Jyn considered lying- but even if her lie was bought, she wouldn't leave this place alive. The truth was not an option even if she wasn't being stubborn. Word on the street was that the Empire was actively rounding up whatever that was left of Saw's rebels; the truth would have her handed right into the fingers of the Empire for a bounty far more satisfactory than her agonised death.

"Go ahead with the torture," Jyn answered. "At least I'll go down with the satisfaction that you never got what you wanted."

The woman's eyes turned dark in the shadow of the doorway, but she gave a curt nod and muttered an instruction to one of the guards before the door thundered closed again, rumbling as it slid, and once more cast her cell into a constricting expanse of solitary confinement.

Jyn uncurled from the chains and let her body drop, the force of where the restraints gripped the walls sending a single sharp shockwave through her back, hanging her frame in uncomfortable suspension.

She thumbed the lock again, dug her jaw into it, feeling the scrape of rust against her skin and her heartbeat, unrestrained, battering her ribs.

All the while she kept an ear out for the corridor. The slightest sound from outside clenched every muscle in her body beyond their present tightness.

Another sound, closer to her right ear. A  _click_. It was blessed, enlivening.

"Force," she exhaled, releasing the terse breath that had all this time kept her gut twisted.

She was so tempted to let it go at that, give her red palms and aching fingers a break. But relaxing now didn't make the prospect of a future any more likely.

Taking caution not to spill the chains off her liberated hand just yet, she reached for her left wrist, the chains ironically making the manoeuvre possible. She quickly worked her way through, taking every advantage of her free hand, and in half the time of before the second lock clicked. Jyn calmed her breathing to an almost normal pace. She had reason to  _hope_ , now, if that was something.

The guards had no subtlety entering the cell again, giving her enough time to haul herself up by the chains again and stick her back to the wall, like a properly restrained prisoner with no hope of escape.

Before they noticed she hauled herself a little higher, putting the lock on her wrists just above the two stocky, burly men's reach.

"I wonder what this one did to piss off the Queen," snorted the guard nearest to her. "Looks puny."

 _The Queen_ , thought Jyn, and almost sniggered.

"The puny ones always piss her off," replied his partner, assessing her with narrowed eyes like a pricey piece of furniture. "Remember the scrawny bald kid?"

"That one got the pit treatment pretty bad."

"She cut off his leg and let it bleed while they dragged him to the pit. Kid's screams got the place haunted."

 _I'm sure I warrant a bigger punishment than that_ , mused Jyn, but kept her gaze blank as the guards reached for her wristlocks.

Reached, but didn't get there.

"Who's the shavit that did this?" the first one started, annoyed. "Does he expect us to stand on something?"

"There's no other option," muttered his partner. "We'll do the legs first."

"Hold it right there. You know it's a dumbass idea to free the legs first, supposing..."

"Supposing this puny thing got her hands free? Look at her, Bote. She's stoned. Scared out of her pants. She hasn't even got her head in order."

Jyn didn't even blink.

"The legs, fine. It's not like she could mess with us anyway."

The two started flicking the combinations of the locks around her ankles. A  _click_  and a  _click_. The pressure crushing the bone at her ankles eased out, allowing for a rush of blood.

"Now hold her down, just in case. I'll deal with those damn wristlocks."

The other guard clasped his massive palms around her freed ankles while Bote made his very best effort to grab the lock she held out of his reach.

Jyn shook off her vacant expression and struck.

The chains on her right hand came crashing down on him, slamming against his neck and spine and knocking to the ground with a thud. The second guard doubled back and drew out his blaster, but by that time Jyn had dropped herself from the wall and she lunged, chains dangling behind her.

She caught him on the head with a chain, making him hiss with pain and lose his gun, before rushing forward and driving a fist into his gut, making him splutter, black out.

She shook the manacles from her arms and legs before picking the gun, pointing it at the unconscious guards, and...

Leave no loose ends. Wasn't that the entire purpose of this self-imposed mission anyway?

Cursing, Jyn pocketed the blaster and made for the exit.

She heaved the door closed behind her, cautious of making noise, and slid in the bolt, clipping the lock that connected it to the wall. That was a loose end tied.

She whirled around to find an endless expanse of stone corridor, travelling far and deep into increasing degrees of darkness.

She recalled bits that would help from her last time in the building. The best course of action would just be to hide in the shadows.

She walked fast, searching for the nooks and corners she knew should be there, somewhere. She passed an arch to an empty black room. But she couldn't turn back, so she held out for the next one.

Noises from the passage behind her, far away yet too close for comfort. Confusion and disorder. The other guards had found something.

Shouts started to follow from behind.

Heart pounding in a constricted chest, she darted into one of the arches, a doorless portal to a pocket of darkness, darker than the stone corridor. She stuck to the walls inside and moved with caution. There were various objects that acquired the space of the room. She couldn't make out what they were, but one wrong step and and she'd stumble, alerting the voices in the corridor to her presence.

She held her breath. A glance outside confirmed they weren't here, not yet. She stepped out of the room and strode a short distance in the corridor for the next one.

She was taking her chances, but it was a good chance. The guards would follow the corridor right down to where it ended, assuming she'd had enough time ahead of them to escape. But Jyn didn't know these pathways, and for all she knew she could run right into waiting reinforcements if she took the instinctive path.

She slipped out of this room and into the next one, the sounds of running and shouting growing close, dangerously close.

She couldn't risk another peek into the corridor or to move to the next room. Holding her breath and, feeling around for the furniture, scrap parts, weaponry stored in the mocking darkness, Jyn moved deeper into the room, being careful her shadow didn't coincide with the dim light from the entrance.

She felt machinery, droid parts. Speeders in storage, but too rusted and loud for her to consider making use of. Her progress, if it could be called progress, was painfully slow and measured.

Her knee struck a part of metal hard- she doubled over but had the sense to keep her mouth shut and her breath mute. She cautiously straightened her legs again, straightened her back, her hands at her sides for any other obstacles...and fingers settled on her shoulder.

The attacker was quick, but Jyn was quicker. She grabbbed the hand, turned around and drove a fist into his face knowing that they normally didn't scream out loud when punched there.

But he didn't stagger, just wavered, and gripped her forearms. Jyn was slammed into a wall she hadn't noticed amidst the sea of clutter, a knee in her gut, hands on her shoulders for added impact.

When the counterattack didn't hurt as much as it should have, Jyn opened her eyes and tried to make sense of the situation in the dark, but minute streaks of sunlight had infiltrated the corner, allowing her to see the familiar brown orbs admonishing her silently.

She dropped her defensive stance and released the tension in her muscles. Most of it.

"I was under the impression you wanted to  _fake_ your death, not actually get yourself killed," said a highly unamused Cassian Andor, whose features were sharp in the beam of light that fell across them, sharp enough so she could make out the colour of his eyes, the bristles on his cheeks that had grown ruggedly but complimented the angles of his face, the creases on his brow that were almost in full force now. Much as it drew her mind to the elevator ride on Scarif, his features now were significantly different from then. Then, he had looked unguarded, brow creased but not out of authority, and his eyes had spoken volumes she was afraid to delve deep into. Now he regarded her with the same scrutiny of a reproachful commanding officer whose glare just  _dared_  her to do something stupid again. She felt she would, just in return for that glare and to spite him. 

"I had it under control," she bit back instead, challenging his look with a glare of her own.

"Right," said Cassian skeptically, and she didn't miss the undertone of scathing sarcasm. "Because facing down a group of thugs with a blaster that doesn't  _work_ is definitely under control."

Jyn huffed irritably, shifting under the placement of the knee still buried in her stomach. "How long have you been following me?"

Seeming to finally trust that she wouldn't run away, he slowly removed his knee and hands, settling to lean back on a leg and cross his arms instead. "Long enough to know you were getting into trouble."

"Right," Jyn crossed her own arms, mirroring his action.

Her eyes darted to the source of light, an open space between the black stones that made the building, then back again to catch his gaze fixed on her with a subtle intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"What are you doing here?"

At the same time he said, "It's been six months, Jyn."

She dropped her arms and met his eyes again, the tone of his words striking hard. A sudden surge of guilt rushed her insides and she looked away just as quickly, avoiding his gaze.

"I...I know," she stumbled for words. "I'm sorry. It's...it's been hectic. If it means anything, I missed you."

Before he could respond to that, a loud clang sounded from nearby and shouts and footsteps flooded the corridor.

"Come on," said Cassian urgently, and darted out of the light and across to the next wall. Despite the steady beam of sunlight, the space ahead was dark, constricting. An illogical fear of the dark gripped at her insides, just for one wild moment, but the noises of excitement grew louder and she followed in a hurry.

The room was bigger than any of the previous ones, and save for that single corner just as dark. Scrapped machine parts lay in hazardous storage leaving little room for free movement, and it felt imposing, imprisoning...a hand found hers in the dark and urgently tugged her ahead, guiding her through the mess of invisible obstacles until light poured into the room once again. A hole the size of a window had been smashed into the walls from the outside, and through it she glimpsed street, harsh sunlight and foot traffic.

Cassian urged her forward and she crouched, dropped to all fours and crawled through the hole.

If there was anything unusual about a person emerging from the foot of a building and onto the pavement, nobody on the streets showed it. She staggered to her feet just as Cassian crawled out after her, glancing over a shoulder as he did.

They hurried into the thick of the crowd just as the excitement from within the walls reached a new high.

The market-day crowds hindered their progress, made it slow and painful and increasingly risky.

Cassian shrugged off his jacket- why anyone needed a heavy jacket in this climate she didn't understand- and draped it over her shoulders. Understanding, she pulled her arms through. "Hair," he said, and she removed the characteristic bun fixed close to her scalp, shaking the locks out. Hopefully she should be unreconizable from behind now, hopefully.

The crowd parted with the various stalls where the marketplace began, and much like before an aisle created itself in the middle to allow easier forward movement. They were not covered, but they weren't swamped either.

"Don't look back," said Cassian, gripping her forearm as they settled for an almost casual, unsuspecting stroll, even though their feet shuffled faster than a stroll to create a distance, just in case, just in case. For all the world they looked like an anxious couple trying to pass through to the end of the market. They wouldn't be the only ones.

A triumphant exclamation from not far behind and a blaster bolt flew over their heads.

They both swore in different tongues before breaking into a run through the thinning crowds and the scorching Leton sun.

Everywhere civilians parted, alarmed, threw themselves out of the line of fire and let them dash through. Let their pursuers dash through, too.

More shots were fired their way, missing by fractions, missing by sheer dumb luck. They crossed the exit of the marketplace, running into a town square of several winding alleyways. Cassian chose one without the slightest hesitance and she darted in after him, not daring to hope they'd escaped the guards.

Shouts of pursuit and blaster fire followed like disaster sirens.

They rounded another corner. And another. The buildings were growing now, taking on urban faces, the roads were neat tar instead of hot sand. It didn't shake off the sweltering heat. It didn't shake off their pursuers, either.

"Bad idea," breathed Jyn as they stumbled into an open field, rural again, kept running.

"Not so bad," exhaled Cassian, eyes on the black ship gliding fast towards them mere feet above the sand, leaving waves in its wake.

Jyn didn't have the time to be awed. Blaster fire surrounded them, zapped past her ears, grazed her clothes at cutting velocities. Her feet threatened to give out, the voices threatened to kill her. Cassian got hit in the shoulder, but his only response was to wave his hands urgently at the speeding ship.

The black shuttle- in a dangerous pause for thought Jyn felt it was a  _monster-_ -finally lowered wafer-thin canons and opened fire on the closing guards.

They went into hasty retreat, she could tell from the sounds, but a few guns kept firing. There was nothing for it. The pilot swiftly turned the ship around and an open hatch beckoned them.

They made the slanted half-climb up the ramp in mid-air, nearly falling but not, the ramp closing up before they'd cleared it.

They landed in an undignified heap on the floor of the shuttle at the foot of the door.

Cassian yanked her out of the way as energy bolts indented the door, and they were soon out of firing range and speeding into the bright, burning sky.

They took a moment to catch their breaths before untangling themselves, stepping shakily back on feet that weren't ready to stand again just yet.

"Nice ship," panted Jyn, grabbing onto an overhead rack for support.

"We're going to need it," said Cassian, equally exhausted, a hand scrunched on his right shoulder.

"Does the Alliance finally require my services, then?" Jyn summoned the strength to quirk an eyebrow over her breathlessness.

"Depends on which part of the Alliance you ask," Cassian replied with a wince. "Two-thirds of the council approved your assistance for this mission, but Draven wasn't too intent on it. Seeing as more personnel is going into getting the new base in order and dealing with the swarm of Imperial defectors getting into contact after Scarif, at the end of the day he said I could make my team from  _whoever the hell I wanted."_

"And that includes me?" Jyn's eyes were drawn to his hand, the blood seeping into it from under his sleeve.

"The Council means to put Rogue One back together. Think if this assignment as a test-run."

Her eyes were back on his face again, but she wasn't sure what kind of expression she wanted to wear. Gratification after the irrational fear that the Alliance would make her work with people she didn't know, who didn't know her? Surprise that the higher-ups they'd all blatantly disobeyed were considering stitching them together as a task force? The bitterness that had eluded her for months now about being one who _survived_  where more deserving people hadn't?

Instead she said, "Let me see that."

Cassian glanced at his bloodied hand and folded the material over the blood another time, pressuring the wound. "I'll be fine."

"You won't be for much longer if you let it bleed," argued Jyn, stepping forward. "Let me."

"I'll get Kay to have a look as soon as he-  _Jyn_."

"Yeah, it's festering," noted Jyn matter-of-factly, his hand held away, already taking a good look at the wound from the rip the blaster bolt had caused in the process. Her left hand keeping his adrift, she tore the long sleeve completely from where it was ripped, and gathered the mostly blood-soaked material as a strip to tie around his shoulder. The Partisans hadn't had the luxuries of bacta or more than one medical droid per base, so she'd learnt what she could of field medicine because in her line of work there had never been a time it wasn't called for.

Cassian looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually resigned himself to the futility of it and kept still while she tied her knot.

"Your jacket saved me from getting the same damage," said Jyn as she finished, drawing away from the wrapped wound. "They wanted us alive either way."

Cassian nodded. "I figured. Who was that you were running from?"

"Nethi, leader of Leton's biggest weapons racketeering service. We may have crossed paths...unfavourably about a year ago, and six years before that. Saw sent me the first time."

"And you had to go back because?"

"Because she's been trying to hunt me down ever since, and I thought I could..."

"Fake your death to put her off for good."

She was caught between glowering at him and a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're too good at this, Andor."

Cassian noticed the conflicting expressions and smirked, though slightly. The look of near-fondness reserved for so few and seen by close to none was apparent in the creases about his eyes, the look when he'd said  _Welcome home_ , but it wasn't to last long.

"Oh, you got her back in one piece," came the disdainful monotone of a faimiliar droid as a tall, slouched chassis ducked through into the common area from the cockpit. "That comes as a surprise after what you just went through, being frail and susceptible organic beings."

"At least I wouldn't short-circuit if a wire was cut," retorted Cassian under his breath, giving Jyn an almost apologetic look before brushing past his droid and into the cockpit, which was a long distance off and hidden from view by a wall and doorway.

"I am to show you to your quarters," declared Kaytoo. It wasn't so much a declaration as a mundane statement of fact.

Now this did surprise her. "I have  _quarters?_ "

If the droid could roll his eyes, he would have. "As you can discern on your own, Jyn Erso, this is a big ship."

She was saved from having to respond to that when another figure, lean and scruffy and welcome, left the cockpit and headed for her in quick strides.

"I was pretty worried about you these six months, Jyn," started Bodhi, a nervous laugh in his throat. He stopped before her to examine her state, wearing obvious concern and warmth and relief, and she couldn't help but reach out and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Bodhi hugged her with equal ferocity, only letting go when it started to hurt.

"How are you?" She asked, holding him at arm's length. There wasn't much in the way of difference since the last time they'd met- he had the same beard, same hair, looked harassed but clean- except maybe he looked a little less harassed and a little better fed, on second inspection.

"Never been better," replied the pilot, shaking his head. "The new Base is...not comfortable, but I've been learning to fly X-wings and that's worth it. Well. Almost worth it." He regarded her quietly. "I think I should be asking you how you've been. We just picked you up from a firefight and Force knows what else you've been upto."

Jyn managed a strangled laugh. "No cause for concern, Bodhi, don't worry."

He looked skeptic. "Are you sure?"

"I was doing fine."

"According to the data I have of your activities of the past six months, you had less than a forty percent chance of survival on average," scoffed Kaytoo.

"Those are good odds," rebuked Jyn, stepping back to cross her arms. "What about my quarters, though? There's no point giving me a bunk to myself if I don't have possessions to load into it."

Bodhi was suddenly averting his eyes self-consciously. "Well, we thought about that, so we dropped by at your place-"

"After I'd left?"

"Of course. Just to gather whatever you'll need here. It was Cassian's idea," he added quickly.

"I'm glad we don't have to turn back to Leton," said Jyn, easing his concern.

She followed Kaytoo down a hallway of dull white lighting, wide enough for three people and composed of machine parts, gray and rugged. Still, it struck her that the ship was large and accommodating enough to house Kaytoo without him having to bend in half- his characteristic slouch was another story. She figured the corridor winded around the back of the ship. After one closed door and the engine room it curved, and two more rooms opened up in the wall to her right. Kaytoo kept marching on, but she paused before the first one.

Sefla and Melshi looked up from their game of sabacc in surprise, as if they'd never known she was coming.

Incredulous, she asked, "You didn't hear the ship firing? The firefight outside?"

Sefla whistled, shaking his head slowly. "They really weren't lying about the soundproofing on this thing, were they?"


	5. Extraction Team Undecided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's tough picking a squadron name, tougher for Melshi to handle his two **professional** colleagues, difficult to get a secret out of a determined rebel pilot and not easy to put up with Bodhi's idea of a joke. 
> 
> Or, the calm before Rogue One's next storm.

In Jyn Erso's experience, waking up on-board a flying ship had never before felt like _not_  waking up on-board a flying ship.

There was always the occasional lurch, the jittery paneling of either the ceiling or the floors and the unwelcome bursts of speed by an inconsiderate pilot, not to mention the horrendously uncomfortable angle in your neck when you woke. She liked to think that years of experience had dulled these sensations for her, made them much less irritable, but. Well. The human body wasn't  _meant_  to take that kind of abuse. 

So when Jyn opened her eyes while on the bottom bunk of the new ship, she assumed she was in her own bed at wherever she'd chosen to call home for the time being.

Then her brain registered the vacant overhead bunk, the gray ceiling and blinking comms wall in the small room, and she sat up in disbelief.

A couple of minutes later she had showered, changed into slightly cleaner but nonetheless worse-for-wear clothing and walked into the common area with a cup of sim-caf that oddly didn't taste like recycled fuel.

Everyone else was already gathered around a circular table that had been retracted from the ceiling overhead, in the middle of what sounded like a heated discussion. All conversation came to an abrupt halt the moment she emerged into visibility.

"Here's one more person to vote for you, Cassian," grumbled Sefla in greeting.

"I don't even want to be voting on this," growled Cassian, before looking her way and saying, "Good morning, Jyn."

Sefla looked aghast. "How come  _I_  didn't get a good morning?"

"What are we voting about?" asked Jyn.

" _Extraction Team Rogue One_  doesn't have a particularly great ring to it, does it?"

"Children, if you wouldn't mind," cut in Melshi exhasperatedly. "We have the high-stakes mission of breaking into an Imperial prison facility ahead of us and we're still delaying its planning process."

Sefla's expression turned serious, and he looked down at the blueprints Cassian held pinned to the table. Bodhi had been reading them all along, and shifted uneasily on his feet at many of the things he discerned. He only noticed her presence when she stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This...this isn't going to be easy," he said, crease lines drawn tight together.

"That's probably why they assigned us," she replied, trying for a wry smile.

The blueprints depicted the layout of a building that wasn't just large, but extremely complicated. Doors opened to corridors that winded in mazes, cell blocks were placed great distances apart and in random, uncoordinated spots, and scattered around the central building were smaller blocks, squat boxes that couldn't house much. But those were also places to search, and their placement promised a challenge or several.

"What are we supposed to get done?"

Cassian looked up from where his focus was intensified, appearing for some reason disoriented. It was an odd look for him. She decided it didn't spell good news.

"Yesterday we received a distress call from a ship manned by a middle-ranked pilot and two Alliance spies returning with valuable intel," he explained, looking back down at the building's layout like he'd already told everyone else the story and only repeated it now. "This was just before they were taken prisoner. Fortunately the Imps took the ship with them and that allowed us to trace them..." He jabbed a finger at the central building. "Dimoran Imprisonment and Interrogation Facility."

"Which should be our primary concern, and exactly why we're running out of time," added Melshi. "This place is meant to break people and get information out of them. It'll be a miracle if they're in there for longer than three days without the Empire learning the location of our new Base, among other things."

"And the standard protocol for a situation like this isn't going to work," said Sefla. "None of them had lullaby pills."

Jyn frowned, processing this last statement. "You mean...?"

"We need perimeter scouts," interrupted Cassian importantly, looking up from the table. "Sefla, Melshi, take the extra guns and find your vantage points. Bodhi, you're our ticket out of here. Main building has three exits on different sides- be prepared to drop by any one of them on short notice, though we'll try to keep you informed throughout. The three of you will have to pay a lot of attention and watch each other's backs. Myself, Jyn and Kay will breach the facility and look for our three personnel under the aliases of Captain Willix and his aide-de-camp; best case scenario the three prisoners walk out free, establish contact with you and unsuspectingly make it out of the region before their absence is noticed. We hang back for a couple of days afterwards so as not to link ourselves with the escapees."

"Worst case scenario?" asked Bodhi.

"Worst case, Jyn, Kay and I will have to make it out with the prisoners, in the process sacrificing the Imperial alias I painstakingly built over the past five years."

Sefla winced. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"No, let's hope not," agreed Jyn.

"And am I the only one who sees the major practicality flaw in this plan?" asked Melshi, but his words were only directed at Cassian with a sideways-frown, like he wasn't talking to anyone else.

The Captain closed his eyes in an exasperated manner. "It's not going to be a problem."

"I beg to differ. Halfway into the operation it's going to become a pretty  _big_  kriffing problem." 

Cassian glanced his way almost pleadingly. Almost. The creases on his brow and weariness of expression suddenly carried more intensity, more prominence. "We discussed this."

"Yeah. Before I heard the plan."

"Something you aren't telling us?" asked Jyn pointedly, annoyed now about being kept in the dark. She preferred open, loud and even messy discussions to cornered, cryptic whispering.

If any change came over Cassian, it didn't show. The only notable difference was the slight increase in rigidity around his shoulders, but that was probably because of the automatic brace latched to his back that kicked in when it had to. "No," he looked at her. "Just administrative issues and Melshi being pre-operation paranoid."

Sefla coughed. "I'm sorry, but Melshi isn't the only one who's paranoid about it."

Cassian treated him to a  _look_. "If it comes to it, I'll deal with it. How many times have I told you?"

"You'll deal with it. Sure." 

"I am an experienced hostage negotiator, a spy, and a multiple times undercover operative so I  _assure_  you-"

A spot of turbulence the ship hit prevented the further progression of their argument, rocking the table from its retractors. The two rebels settled for exchanged glares instead, but nothing more was said about the administrative issue in question. Jyn spared a glance at Bodhi, gratified to note that he was just as out-of-place as she was.

"Any other questions?" asked Melshi, specifically addressing the two of them this time.

"Er, yeah...they'll be expecting us, though, right? The Interrogation Facility?" asked Bodhi, his nerves on a tethering edge.

"Of course they will be," affirmed Melshi. "Which is why the three of us have the hardest part of the operation. The ship's inbuilt  _ghosting_  mechanism will help you to some degree, but get picked by a sensor and they'll know who you are, no questions asked. This won't be the ship that delivers Captain Willix to them either. If things go according to plan this ship will never be spotted."

"Ghosting mechanism?"

"It can avoid getting picked up by sensors, radar or scans for a limited period of time at a moment. Detect a sensor or one of the routine scans- Cassian will get that for you- switch on ghosting, get out of range before it turns off on its own. Anything  _other than_  a routine scan, you've got to confuse the hell out of them."

"Be there one moment, ghost the next?"

"Look like a kriffing glitch on their radar, yes. It's a busy facility- with a dignitary like Captain Willix visiting, they won't have the time for glitches."

Jyn raised an eyebrow. "Dignitary?"

"Born into a family that served the Empire even before its formation, served under every historical name there is," explained Cassian. "A new aide-de-camp every visit doesn't even look suspicious considering my penchant for perfect operation wherever I'm assigned. Willix is to say the least a nuisance to any Imperial running a facility, but they don't lose sight of his authority. I'll leave the file at your door. You have fifteen hours to catch up, but you're only going to need three."

"And the role of aide-de-camp? How much of reading is that going to take?"

"Not so much of reading as posture practice. The rest you watch and follow."

Jyn sniggered.

Cassian furrowed his brow, apprehensive there was an issue. "What?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing, just...how did Willix the perfectionist ever look convincing with a droid that slouched all the time?"

Cassian actually coughed back a laugh. "You'll be amazed with what the Imps keep telling themselves to explain that one."

"On the file?"

"Word of mouth. Legend. Willix is as black-and-white as Imperial can get; nothing save for a public declaration by the man himself can convince people he's a rebel infiltration of the system."

Jyn pursed her lips. "That must be the strongest alias I've heard of, then, and I've been in the field awhile."

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Tell me about it. Tracking down a Jyn Erso under all those alibis was almost a learning experience."

Sefla nudged him pointedly in the ribs in a way that years of mutual experience hinted was suggestive.

Cassian's good mood faded, but he maintained his expression and only swiped a discrete kick at his comrade sideways under the table to get his disdain across.

"Sometimes I feel I should be ranked higher than the two of you put together," muttered Melshi, trying and failing to keep the disappointment from his voice while he marked potential vantage points around the central building.

**Imperial Imprisonment and Interrogation Facility, Dimoran.**

"That one's apparently very far from breaking," commented TR-4325 as they crossed to corridor F-3 for the second time that round.

"Maybe he doesn't really know anything and they won't believe it," replied TR-5679, holding back a grimace as the muffled sound of grunting escaped the soundproof door. The stormtroopers halted a moment, more out of curiosity than anything else, but proceeded on their rounds when the noises started up again.

Elies took another hard knee to the ribs, gargled a steady stream of blood down the front of his shirt, but held onto his resolve to stay conscious. He was seeing in doubles, triples now- his interrogating officer's face swam in a dizzy haze before his eyes, the edges of his vision blurred, black.

Another solid kick, another surge of blood. Some small coherent part of his brain supposed that after three more blows he wouldn't have anything left to throw up.

"The Rebel Base."

It had ceased to be a question a long time ago; it was an order now, coming from a person who had every power to kill him.

Elies couldn't form words. He was glad for it, really. This way he wouldn't be able to blurt out the single syllable  _Hoth_  even if he lost the will to live.

The officer seemed to consider another kick, just for good measure, but it was pretty clear the detainee couldn't talk. He'd be wasting his time and probably sacrificing this information source for good.

Elies didn't even look up to watch the officer head for the exit- a long way from where he was cuffed, behind a preventive glass wall- strap out of his rugged metal kneecaps and swipe his card across the door with one last disgusted look down the front of his own shirt, splattered in the detainee's vomit and blood. Elies exhaled a long, shuddering breath after he heard the door click shut, letting loose the pressure that held his shoulders in place.

He would die here, if the Alliance didn't send someone to rescue him. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

He wasn't going to bite at the thread fixing the patch that held his suicide pill to the inside of his shirt collar.

Elies had just managed to regularise his breath- in and out, laboured, painful, smelling blood and vomit and otherwise sterile Imperial room- when the familiar click of the door rang in his ears.

He looked up through sweat-strung lashes, every ounce of energy left in him chanelled into a single murderous glare. It was a different Imperial who walked in this time. They'd been introduced before. The director of the Dimoran Facility.

"Corporal Recken Elies, ex-navigator, pilot and rebel scum," Descon slid his minimalist identification placard and Alliance insignia across the white tabletop at his side. "The strip team conjured up the identification you refused to give, a cleverly hidden comm device and a lovely picture of your...daughter, is it?" 

_Niece_ , thought Elies, but didn't think beyond that. The girl was spirited, nine years old and had only him and his half-brother to call family. She would be the first- and only- one to cry if he died here and the outside world learnt about it.

Descon grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him forward painfully, paying no attention to the ribs that creaked or the blood that was still liquid on his shirt. "But the morons who went through your belongings were new to the job, so don't mind me if I have to complete it for them."

Somehow the director knew exactly what he was talking about.

Elies bit back a scream as Descon ripped his shirt from the rim, searing over bruised skin and battered bone. The director looked the cloth over and found the patch. He pulled at a string and it came loose, the white pill rolling seamlessly into his palm.

"Is a single planet's name really worth burning up your insides for?" Descon wondered in mock amazement. He grabbed the Corporal's front locks again and brought his sneer as close as it could get, completely unperturbed by the stench of blood and bile. "I'll be taking up your Interrogation personally. Don't expect to live much longer."

"Might...as well...die with my secret," grunted Elies, the words a herculean effort for his throbbing lungs.

"Oh, that doesn't happen here," the director cracked the slightest of grins, exposing the colour of teeth. Stark white like the rest of the room. "Not under my care, rebel."

###### 

Jyn slumped on her bottom bunk and felt the day's physical strain weave through muscles she hadn't even previously been aware of. Her shoulders were unrelenting, refusing to curl out of a defensive slouch, and her sides and hamstrings and calves felt like they'd been stretched around the landscape of a small moon. Her neck ached, her shoulders ached, the skin under her chin was ready to look up and stay that way for good.  _Posture practice_  for an Imperial role was apparently vital enough that the team of Cassian and Melshi had taken turns in instructing her for four hours without break. Most of Melshi's coaching had been verbal grilling and ear-splitting barks of motivation while Cassian had taken the time to stop her and fix it when something was even slightly amiss. In the end they'd both looked reasonably satisfied, but her relief had vapourised the moment she'd been handed a file as thick as her knuckles on Willix that she was required to study in three hours.

She glared at the file sitting on her bedside box and it smiled innocently back.

A knock on the door surprised her, however, and she answered with an invitation before considering the possibility of it being Cassian or Melshi with another set of exercises.

Jyn breathed a sigh of quiet thanks when it only turned out to be Bodhi, a fresh cup of sim-caf in his free hand.

"Thought I'd get you something to drink," he explained, handing her the cup. The radiating warmth was instantly welcoming. "You had a tougher day than I did."

"Thanks," said Jyn, taking a grateful sip. "Where were you the entire time, actually?"

At her gesture Bodhi sat down beside her, hunching the slightest bit not because of muscle fatigue but because sitting up straight would guarantee his head a knock on the top bunk. "Getting familiar with the ship's features. According to Kaytoo it's a model that wasn't reaching mass production in most systems so they stopped the make entirely. This is a rare specimen, I guess? It's as versatile as an X-Wing and as compact as a heavy-duty frieghter. Pretty amazing."

Jyn had the good grace to look only a little confused.

Bodhi laughed. "Basically it can get knocked around a lot and still keep flying, and it can fly fast and maneuver between spaces without a problem. There's also a gliding function- you saw that on Leton- and the ghosting function Melshi talked about earlier. And thedynamics on this thing-"

"Okay, that's enough," laughed Jyn, waving a dismissive hand. "You want to talk about ships, talk to Kay or someone who spends his days in a cockpit. I've never even flown a ship."

Bodhi mock-blanched. " _Never?_ "

She swatted his arm. "No, never. You ever driven a tank?"

The pilot huffed. "You can do more with  _piloting_ than _tank-driving._ "

"You ever taken on more than one opponent at a time in a cantina brawl?"

"Jyn, I don't think I even want to know what else is in your weird skill-set."

Jyn lowered her voice to a challenging whisper. "Can you stab between your fingers with a knife?"

Bodhi covered his eyes in a gesture that suggested he didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both. "Because that is so _useful._ "

"You'd be surprised," smirked Jyn, knocking back the last of her sim-caf. She glanced down at the empty cup and the tiredness was back, but in a lesser force than moments before. "And today I learnt how to keep my neck and shoulders at different regulation angles. _Actual_ angles, Bodhi."

"That's how the Empire works," shrugged the pilot sympathetically. "They have rules about hair, fingernails, laundry, right down to the creases of your uniform, and sometimes it's not the same in two different systems. I wouldn't be surprised if it was another reason for the influx of defectors these days."

Jyn furrowed her brow. "I heard. What about that again?"

Bodhi bit down his lip apprehensively, but then answered carefully, "Ever since Jedha, Alderaan, Scarif...people are realizing what the Empire is really about, you know? It's not order and peace, it's terror. Base hasn't signed anyone up yet, but the defectors are being given a chance. The Alliance is busy dealing with the influx and picking people whom they can trust, turning the others back, but the numbers are definitely a good thing for the long run."

"I guess so," agreed Jyn warily, the bundled memories of Jedha and Scarif and the news of Alderaan returning to her mind. Not that they'd ever been gone in the first place. Not that they'd been buried much deeper than the surface. But comebacks, resurfaces, were always strong and always struck hard.

"I knew a guy who defected because there were too many rules to follow," said Bodhi lightly, a gentle diversion from a topic that would cause pain to them both.

Jyn half-smiled, grateful for the ruse. "What kind of rules?"

"Breeches an inch from the boots, tags pinned at regulation angles and specific folds, nails clipped twice a week-"

"Force, it's a wonder the Empire has  _lasted_  this long," exclaimed Jyn. "But today was not a fair day, Bodhi Rook. It sounds like you  _enjoyed_  yourself while I pushed my body to its limits over posture practice."

Bodhi smirked just slightly. "Oh, I'm sure you did enjoy some of it."

Jyn snorted. "Which part? Melshi's barking or Cassian's fixing?"

The pilot pulled his knees to his chest and feigned an innocent look. "Mm...Cassian's fixing?"

Jyn frowned. "What do you...oh.  _Oh_. You are a dead man, Rook."

"I'm not suggesting anything," shrugged Bodhi, but his pained expression from suppressing a laugh more than gave it away.

He entirely missed the rock-solid pillow that came swinging at his face.

" _Ouch!_ "

"I can fight with any object in this room, too."

"Jyn, stop-  _stop!_ "

Jyn drew her weapon of choice back again. "What was that? Can't hear you over the ship's versatility and compactness."

Bodhi groaned, both hands raised over his head in defense. "I was  _kidding!_ "

"Not the magic words."

"Ahh-hey- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" 

Jyn made a false advance, making him flinch again in terror, then tossed the pillow aside, unable to keep her laughter.

Bodhi shook out the fear from his eyes and glared straight and hard at her, unappreciative.

"I've seen enough of your weird skill-set for a lifetime, thank you."

Jyn wiped a tear of mirth out of the corner of an eye. It had been too long since she'd got to actually laugh. She dared not think of the specifics. "Fat load of good your piloting did you though, did it?"

Bodhi huffed. "Ha ha. You're a riot, Jyn Erso."

Jyn sat back against the wall and relaxed, only minutely reminding herself there were still postures she had to get used to, a thick file to be read through. Still she allowed herself to be glad for this break and the easy company Bodhi brought with him. Where the others would advice breathing exercises for her dour mood, the pilot would come up with a moment like this and cure the stress and pain and anger all in one go. Perhaps in another life where attachment wasn't a loose trigger, she'd consider him a brother, a best friend. The inexplicable and mutual gravitation she felt towards Cassian she shared with Bodhi as an automatic bond, as if they'd always known each other, and the rest of the Rogue One crew as the first group since Saw's rebels that she wanted to throw herself in with, the consequences of being left behind or betrayed barely considered. Attachment was a dangerous thing in a galactic warzone, definitely, but in this case the fear was not about being left to strive on her own. Cassian had welcomed her home, and she knew she was; attachment was dangerous now because loss was eminent at any time.

And so they weren't friends, family. They were a good team at best.

"What happened to Aren and Iowa?" she asked.

Bodhi shrugged. "They're too junior to be assigned a task force, apparently. Didn't do too well on the aptitude tests- it was also partially their choice. They don't specialise in this area and they didn't want to be liabilities."

Jyn nodded. "Makes sense."

Bodhi placed a light hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm and smiling. "Back on Base they speak highly of you. Well, pretty much everyone does. The Council thought it would be a serious de-motivator if we weren't assigned our own task force."

Jyn pursed her lips dryly. "Things have changed, huh?"

The pilot shook his head. "More than you can imagine."

"A good change?"

Bodhi picked up the Willix file and dropped it in her lap. "Our old ship is an exhibit and Rogue One are heroes of the rebellion, Jyn. You'd better start reading up. Tomorrow is our first time following orders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have taken the Jyn/Bodhi Adorable Space Siblings TM  thing to a whole new level with a pillowfight, but we all deserved this.


	6. ETU: Provident Approach

Jyn had woken up to Kaytoo opening her door at some ungodly hour of the morning, letting in a stream of blinding white light from the curving corridor and unceremoniously dumping a neat parcel of clothes on her floor.

"The Captain would appreciate if you reported in forty standard minutes," he'd said.

"Kriff off," responded Jyn, turning over so the hard pillow shielded her eyes.

The Imperial uniform set out for her had at first looked only vaguely challenging; but recalling her conversation with Bodhi the previous night a multitude of doubts arose during dressing about the creases and folds and angles of things, right down to where the breeches ended and the boots began. She thought back on similar Imperial uniforms she had noticed over the years and made adjustments where she could with only the face mirror of the refresher to check herself. The outfit wasn't tailor-made, but it was clean enough to not have been scavenged either. She supposed the Alliance occasionally had these forged for undercover purposes, though she didn't have an eye to catch the accuracy of the forgery. Hers was made for someone of small stature and only slightly ill-fitting.

It was still the early hours of morning, if space had any such mornings, when she reported as per requested well over forty minutes ago. The ship was brightly lit in the black recess of moving space through the two panoramic viewports on either sides, but the common area used as a meeting room the previous day was eerily empty and quiet save for the soft whirring of controls from the cockpit. She frowned, contemplating whether it was best to wait or search. At this hour she assumed it was Kay at the controls and not Bodhi, but she didn't feel like being reprimanded for her timing and so took a guess, climbing down the narrow utility ladder to the bottom level of the ship.

It was only once inside that she heard any form of noise- on the far end of the entrance a uniformed Cassian rummaged through his rucksack to pull out a blaster, badges and insignias. He gave no indication of having realized her presence. Uneasy to break the eerie stretch of silence, she made no sound as he picked up a personal identifier transponder, momentarily pausing, looking at it before he slipped it into a pocket at his side.

He stiffened, and she noticed the brace on his back was either gone or completely unnoticeable under the gray uniform. He turned to face her slowly.

"You're late," said Cassian quietly, but his words barely registered because her eyes were instantly drawn to the difference.

His Imperial uniform was crisp and perfectly done, pleated where needed and folded at the right degrees. His badges gleamed- the Imperial insignia on the left of his collar looked like it belonged there, like it always had. On Scarif she'd thought his disguise was precise- but this was simply impossible to digest, because on the far end of the second level stood a completely different man. Clean-shaven, spotless. Hair trimmed into neat lengths typical of law-abiding Imperial die-hards. He looked polished, important. The angles in his face were prominent, even more so than usual, and carried an affluent lustre that had never touched the face she was familiar with. It struck her why this alias had held up for five years without raising scrutiny; if one were to draw a picture of Cassian Andor, the rebel, against Captain Willix, the bloodline Imperial, every difference and no similarity would stand out.

He crossed in a few strides to stop before her and was fixing the many flaws of her own undercover get-up before she could say anything. He wore no discernible expression as he undid and refastened her collar, folding it neatly in half, then adjusted the creases and folds of her jacket with practiced precision. Jyn would have said something, asked a couple of essential questions maybe, if Bodhi's idea of a joke the previous night hadn't treacherously sprung to mind.

Her cheeks coloured ever so slightly as Cassian continued his tailoring, paying no attention except to the corrections that had to be made, oblivious of or perhaps unconcerned with her discomfort.

"Jyn," he said pointedly, as he turned her face to look straight using two fingers on her jaw.

She looked straight ahead but avoided his eyes, her senses keenly aware of his hand on the small of her back, her hip, straightening her frame into a posture that was smart and unnatural.

He withdrew the hand on her hip, but the fingers on her face stayed as he firmly reminded, "Don't forget the stances we coached you on. Uphold them at all times. Got it?"

Feeling her throat strangely constricted in the minute space between them, she only nodded an affirmative.

Cassian's fingers lingered a second longer before he created distance, walking smartly back to where his blaster and a folded copy of the blueprints lay. She found a part of herself ridiculously wanting the disconcerting proximity back, but she banished the thought with almost externally visible force and felt glad it was gone, infinitely glad.

"What's Willix's homeworld?" Cassian asked suddenly, catching her off guard. He spoke with a new accent that served as a hint, but she it wasn't needed thanks to her vigorous - choiceless- reading the previous night. "Coruscant."

"Age?"

"Thirty two."

"Last aide-de-camp was dismissed because?"

"Failure to report for duty on time, on multiple occasions. He was transferred to Aron Draft, Imperial alias of Lieutenant Sordan, one of our own."

Cassian-  _Willix_ - looked like he was going to assess her further, but the clank of metal against metal drew her attention to Kaytoo's arrival.

"You're lucky I don't have to program  _you_ into holding regulation postures, too," said Cassian in Willix's accent and authoritarian tone.

The droid only sounded mildly acknowledging. "Practicing the specifics of your undercover alias up to two hours before the actual operation is effective enough," he turned his head to look at Jyn instead. "Are you not feeling well?"

Jyn deliberately suppressed the still-present flush that deepened at that, covering with a scowl. "Why didn't you tell me I was supposed to report down here and not to the common area?"

"I assumed you had the sense to come here if the common area was empty. Do you want me to run a temperature check?"

Jyn swatted his hand aside before it could touch her forehead. "No. I'm fine. How well-versed are you in playing Willix's droid, anyway?"

"On previous occasions Cassian and I have had an average of a forty percent chance of success under these guises. With your involvement the chances of success drop to about twenty percent. Certain knowledge withheld from you considered, they're even-"

"Go and get the others," instructed Cassian sharply, giving his droid a look that would have activated the instinct to flee in any living creature.

Kaytoo considered a parting remark but obeyed without, heading back up the ladder in a loud and petulant manner reminiscent of a stubborn child scolded.

"He tends to say whatever that comes to his circuits," Cassian shook his head, turning back to his equipment and copy of the blueprints. He cleared the bench of his rucksack and discarded jackets, revealing it to be a bench of surprisingly generous proportions.

"You sleep here?" She asked, deciding to save the real questions for later.

Cassian sighed warily, the role of Willix gone even though he only sounded like his original self. The lack of a rugged beard and residual fieldwork grime rendered him as far from his actual self than the previous disguise she'd seen him hold up. "I initially had a shared quarter like yours, but Bodhi snores."

It was such a simple and out-of-context thing to say that Jyn had to fight hard to hold back a snigger. "It's that bad?"

Clanking was heard down the ladder again as Kaytoo reappeared, followed by Sefla, Melshi and finally Bodhi, none as elaborately dressed as the two of them but nevertheless mission-ready, the former with assault rifles slung habitually over their shoulders.

"You have no idea," answered Cassian with a mild hint of what might've been weariness, might've been a dry laugh, before straightening to address the rest of his crew.

"Let's go over the plan again," he started, Willix's accent gone again at will. "We will land on the far side of Dimoran, a remote part of the suburbs which are thin in Imperial activity. Jyn, Kay and I will take it from foot there to Dexan village, where we will meet Naren Yi'i and loan an appropriate Imperial transport. Thereafter we will notify the Facility of our inspection visit and set course. It will take us four hours in all. Bodhi?"

Bodhi startled, not having expected to be assessed, but came with his reply, "Uh, myself, Lieutenant Sefla and Sergeant Melshi will head directly for the Facility after we drop you near...Dexan, but we won't go in. We'll stay still somewhere in the radius outside the compound of the Facility until your transport arrives, opening the gate."

"And how will you make it in without being noticed?"

"While the gate is being opened for your transport, you will have a look at the bypass code and beam it to us. We enter it in as soon as you're past the gates so that it simply looks like a double-swipe, turn on ghosting and make for the rock cover."

"Timing is a critical part of the procedure," Sefla clapped him on the back. "Two seconds too late and the code will change, meaning we can't pass it off for a double-swipe and we'll end up setting off alarms instead. So..."

"So no slacking on the job," said Bodhi, a phrase they'd been through several times over the previous day.

Cassian motioned for him to continue.

"If...If there are patrols, and there probably will be, and they head for our cover, Sefla and Melshi will take to the ground to create some form of distraction. We wait for your report on the territorial scans and move accordingly. Also, when you get the prisoners, we've got to be ready to pick them up."

Cassian nodded his approval. "And for that you have to always keep a line open for myself or Jyn, or things could get messy very fast. I want a clean and quick operation, are we clear?"

"Yessir," murmured the crew in unison. It was not a question to whom the role of leader was assigned- level of experience, expertise, the Council's picking and judgement counted, as did the unspoken unanimous vote of all present. Nobody on board doubted Cassian Andor's capability to see things through- they were all well aware of the multiple roles he'd played in the past, an illustrious career by even the Rebellion's standards, more so than that of Sefla's, one rung just below him, and Melshi, who stood at the same level but with less variety under his belt.

Cassian leaned back on one still-impaired leg, an affliction that didn't show not because it was minor but because he didn't believe it served him well. For a single split second a weariness in pain flashed across his features, but it was gone before it could waste a precious moment of time. "Any questions?"

Jyn crossed her arms, carefully so as not to upset the perfected creases of the Imperial uniform, and darted her eyes from Cassian to Bodhi and back again. "Why does it have to look like a double-swipe?"

"Dimoran's entrance codes don't follow the Empire's general algorithms for clearance codes. One of those security changes made recently."

"Must be a variant," shrugged Jyn, barely in question.

"Not a variant we know of," answered Cassian simply. "Yes, Melshi?"

"Give me a code replicator," said Jyn.

Cassian met her eyes from his peripheral vision. She didn't flinch. She had no reason to doubt what she was talking about.

He looked towards his droid and nodded. "Give her a replicator, Kay."

Jyn accepted the thick-backed tablet casually, but her fingers twitched around the bricklike device as if some part of its silicone frame burned the skin it touched.

It had been a long time.

Bodhi glanced her way to get across a quiet thank you, perhaps because he believed she could do it or perhaps because he appreciated the effort to make his task easy for him, but the burn in her fingers was enough to distract her from the present.

_The holo-cube shot up an image of an official Imperial media release. Insignia, signature, serial numbers, they were all there, and hit the mark exactly._

_"My father taught me to pay attention to details," answered Jyn without thinking._

_"Yes, I did," said Saw, his smile a beam of misplaced pride._

Jyn immediately turned on the replicator and studied its several functions, features and shortcomings.

Melshi took his chance to reach across and push a firm knuckle against Cassian's shoulder. "Are you sure about our cover story?"

Cassian's expression didn't waver, but his eyes lowered a fraction as he nodded his certainty. Certainty didn't mean freedom from guilt, but it meant he wasn't going to turn back. "Yes. Everything we have been through."

"Very well," said Melshi, drawing back. "I'll take your word for it, Captain."

The planet loomed below them as a rocky outcrop of ruffled land, faded seas and deprived desert. Roughly a half of Dimoran held all of the sea and habitable land- friendly land- where clusters of civilization dotted the natural landscape, farming was a livelihood but sparse and scattered, which the Imperial occupiers didn't treat with particular effort or importance. The other half looked from the upper levels of atmosphere to be vast, barren, continuous brown rock and beige desert, orange in places, dead in all. That was the Imperial half of the planet, widespread and impending. Although in this case both geographically and politically incorrect, the division looked the perfect metaphor of Imperial occupation scourging up a world, reaching for the remaining bits of life and freedom and culture and draining everything it touched.

They swerved into the living part of Dimoran first, coming in for a tricky landing on careful coordinates. Bodhi manuevered the ship into the clearing of forest, keeping an eye on the maps that put them in close proximity to a human settlement. Cassian sent an encrypted alert to his contact before grabbing his bag and hitting the release on the hatch.

Melshi and Sefla chose to stay at the exit and salute their goodbyes, but Bodhi gave Jyn a quick hug and wished the Force be with them. The two figures in forged Imperial uniforms and the droid had only walked halfway through the clearing when the hatch was called up, and the ship retracted its landing skids to get on a low glide before turning its nose skyward and shooting for the atmosphere.

The forest wasn't wet like Lah'mu, wasn't cold and breezy like Wrea. It appeared interminable miles of dry grass and shrubbery, savanna without harsh sun but the same cracked soil and a lingering heat. They fell onto a foot path a few strides after the clearing ended and simply followed the signs of life. Here the grass was still dry but battered, and although no sentient life save for hidden, scurrying beetles made their presence known, indegenous markings and the occasional signpost testified they were on the right track. They may have cut across as an odd trio- crisp gray Imperials and a droid that looked utterly alien in such a remote place- but there were no eyes watching, yet.

Jyn did feel the occasional glance thrown her way, however, and put up with it until the path broadened.

"Anything you want to know?" she asked pointedly, looking from the harsh long road still ahead to the slaked-gray Imperial officer who fell in stride with her, the limp in his gait stubbornly concealed.

Cassian didn't even bother with an explanation. He had probably aimed for her to ask first anyway. "The original plan is still our best bet, because even if you are capable of forging a clearace code that will get us through, you won't have more than a minute to do it. A minute between seeing the code we're given and the deadline for Team Two's double-swipe. In the event that you don't succeed, we can't afford to compromise the original plan."

"We can't," agreed Jyn, an eye on the simmering horizon ahead. She was beginning to see traces of a settlement. "And I can't guarantee you I will be able to forge a code."

Cassian shifted his pack to his other shoulder, taking care with the neat gray uniform. She wondered how much he knew. He had been tracking her down for months, knew of her affiliation with Saw's partisans. It wouldn't be altogether surprising if he was aware of what her primary role had been for them, as well. "No guarantees will be necessary."

"I see Naren Yi'i's hangar," said Kaytoo. "It is ten meters south of the communication outpost. No Imperial presence."

Jyn squinted in the heat to where the village slept as a scattering of squat buildings and yellow farming patches. She made out the faint shape of a communication tower, but it was about all that stood out.

"Most of the hangar is below ground," explicated the droid in answer. "It is not ideal for moving out and docking shuttles, but the chances for being noticed by the Imperial troops that occasionally make rounds of this area are lowered that way."

"This contact can be trusted?" asked Jyn.

"More than usual," answered Cassian. "He used to work closely with some of our top councilmemebers, then in bringing up the Alliance to where it is now. They trusted him; still do. He's in on most of our undercover aliases as well. We served in the same installation a while back."

Jyn raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Cassian shifted the pack to his other shoulder again, fixed his leg. Didn't fall back, though. "He found someone, started a family. It was the only reason he officially left- he's been invaluable even since, running major favours for the Rebellion. That's why most of us envy him without holding his leave against him."

Jyn stopped in her tracks and crossed to stand in his path, moving her own pack to one shoulder. "Give that to me."

Cassian attempted to side-step, but she was fast. "Give me that bag, Cassian. You've been switching it around for the past twenty minutes."

Cassian looked at her neutrally at first, then irritably, and pulled the strap tighter around his shoulder. "Ten minutes more and we'll be in the hangar."

"The medics did advice you to stay clear of strain on your shoulders and backbone," said Kaytoo informatively. "I suggest you give Jyn the bag."

Jyn rolled her eyes. "Don't see why Kay can't carry both our bags, but he's right. Hand it over."

Cassian scowled, but didn't hold his stare for more than two seconds before scoffing, "We're wasting time," and taking a wide stride around her to fall back onto the path, not once looking back over at them.

Jyn was torn between the urge to run up to him and snatch the pack from his shoulder, and keep her distance, silently willing him to suffer. Instead she turned to Kay and deliberately asked, "Just how many of medbay's orders does he ignore on a daily basis?"

The droid didn't even need to tap far into his memory bank. "At least five out of seven a day, although there have been days he has deliberately disobeyed six, and also days he has gone against only four, but never less than that. It may be of interest to you that at present he is disregarding all seven."

Jyn scrunched a palm to her face in a prolonged, unsurprised sigh. "And you're not doing anything about it?"

"It is one of my functions to see to the Captain's health, but every time I remind him of a rule he's breaking I am given an instruction not to bring it up again. If I'm lucky I get threatened to be transferred into the body of an astromech droid, or worse- a sweeper. I have to be concerned for my usefulness too, you know."

Jyn glared headlong into the distance, where Cassian had already progressed a greater distance than he should have, and was ringing up his contact on a private comm.

He really did look like a different person with the beard and assortment of jackets gone. His spinal and leg injuries from Scarif were hidden well, better than she'd ever imagined possible, but no matter what disguise he took she knew for certain that she would never fail to recognize those wounds. The inflictions that made Cassian Andor, markings of what he had done for the Rebellion and for her on Scarif.

Some small part of her wanted to tell him that they were nothing to be ashamed of, that they were proof of the rebel she knew and recognized who had welcomed her home and lead her toughest battle alongside her, but his sense of pride wasn't the only thing that stood in the way for those words.

Dexan village wasn't as desolate as it had looked approaching from a distance, because beyond a point people were outdoors and ploughing the farming patches, senior women were weaving dusty cloths at their doorsteps and children were playing noisy games in the rugged streets. All or most activity came to an abrupt standstill at the sight of the approaching Imperials- it was disconcerting, being viewed as the very people you called your enemy- and the path was made clear for them. Jyn couldn't help but falter the slightest bit under the villagers' scrutinizing gaze, but no one was about to do anything but maintain a silence of forced respect. Cassian kept going without a single sideways glance.

The stretch of silence didn't shatter even after they had reached the entrance of the hangar, an isolated place that kept its distance from the rest of the village. A dozen cameras examined their faces from above and around the slanted squat building before a narrow hatch shot open before their feet. Stairs led into darkness below ground.

"Watch your footing," said Cassian tonelessly, the first words he had spoken since ten minutes ago. He found a handrail and started his descent. Kaytoo climbed in after her, and the hatch shut behind them.

Darkness engulfed everything but for the slight sheen on the metal stairs and the droid's lightened eyes. The distances between steps were varying and unpredictable. More than once Jyn stepped down a little too early only to hear Kay's irate clicks close behind her.

Eventually there was ceiling and dim golden light, illuminating the underground compound that housed an impressive range of Imperial shuttles, some of them exclusive to the Empire, others official-looking and painted with the insignia. The compound was massive, the ceiling high. Even the seven-foot droid at her flank looked like a toy among the dozen large, impending cargo vessels, freighters and dignitary transport shuttles that stood on their landing skids great distances from the polished floor.

Cassian didn't look around with the same awe she did- clearly he'd been here before- but spent a moment searching for their contact. The man eventually presented himself to them, emerging from one of the far walls and walking a smooth path down the aisle between shuttles.

Perhaps Jyn would've done her habitual assessment of the person- prior observations could save your life, she'd learnt that the hard way- and noted his casual stride, apologetic shrug and warm smile that suggested he belonged  _nowhere_  near the galactic conflict or the rebellion, if her attention wasn't instantly drawn to the girl of about six in a black dress, red flats and naturally curly red hair bundled up messily on her head who stuck close to Naren's right leg while he headed over.

She and Kaytoo stood and stared, but Cassian's dour mood dropped in an instant and he was suddenly on one knee, smiling and introducing himself to the girl and asking her name before even addressing her father.

Naren ruffled his daughter's already unkempt hair and fondly explained, "I'm taking her to the Urban Development convention with me tonight. She's so excited about seeing the city again that she's trying on all these outfits."

There was something in the way the girl acted, the way her father spoke, that threatened to bring back memories of a long time ago when Jyn had found herself in the same position, the daughter of an Imperial scientist on Coruscant determined she would dress to make her father proud whenever he decided to take her to the lavish parties hosted by other important figures in the community. She had sealed those memories shut a long time ago, when she'd been convinced her father was a...a  _bastard_ , a coward who had left her on her own, but her last memory of Galen superceded all of those convictions, and the last thing she had done for him was give him hope...maybe made him proud. Now good memories of a time long past flickered behind the unusual specks in her eyes; simple plaid dresses laid out on the bedroom floor, little trinkets of jewellery that she could very well wear on her own but she insisted her Papa hook the clasps of anyway.

"Really?" Cassian was saying, taking the girl's small hand to press a kiss to it, making her smile shyly but not hide behind Naren. "I think you look fantastic, _señora_."

"Captain Andor," reminded Naren lightly, a call to attention amidst his easy humour.

Cassian got to his feet with a firm nod, evening out whatever creases that had formed in his gray uniform. "Of course. This alias is bloodline Imperial; only as cover for an extraction operation. A dignitary's private vessel would be ideal."

Naren regarded him thoughtfully. "I must compliment you on your disguise, Captain. I heard you were Draven's golden boy, but this is more than even I anticipated out of a cover. You don't appear at all to be the same man I worked with all those years ago...or, considering that really  _was_  a long time, you don't look like the man on the identification card I was pinged this morning."

Cassian stiffened, just slightly, but responded with a shrug that slipped off easily. "You'd be surprised what a shave and a haircut can do. Besides, most Imperials don't know where to look."

Naren snorted. "You mean they aren't willing to believe our infiltration has stretched this far in. But they'll be getting more careful now, after we won the last time. It's finally striking them just what the Alliance is capable of."

 _The last time_  being Scarif and the Death Star. If Naren knew anything about either one of their involvement in those battles, he was doing a good job of hiding it, and Cassian was doing an equally adept job of playing along.

As the conversation stalled he followed the ex-rebel down a steep, broadening ramp that lead to a lower level of the underground hangar, too many thoughts and memories triggered in their cages.

Draven's golden boy, yes, since the present age of Yi'i's own treasured daughter. He'd done things to earn that title that he wasn't proud of- and still wasn't entirely sure he deserved it. The ex-rebel hadn't known all that much about his background during the brief period they had been stationed in the same installation- Cassian had been just a boy back then, another seventeen-year-old who'd lost his home to the Empire, but noted because of rising through the ranks, serving intelligence and having been around for longer than most other operatives of seventeen. They had done mission runs together, on occasion, and exchanged brief words during the time in-between- but they knew little of each other and hadn't spoken all that much. You tended not to make friends when you were almost entirely certain one of you would get killed somewhere down the line soon enough.

Not Naren. He didn't operate on that mentality. It lead him to leave the Alliance to work as an outsider, serving the cause while enjoying little privileges others in his place were too afraid to pursue.

Jyn and Kaytoo followed from a distance as the ex-rebel delved into the specifics of the vessel he'd chosen, maximum velocities and trajectory settings and fake credentials. What they eventually arrived at was the foot of a stark white shuttle that made up for in style what it lacked in size. The streamlines were smooth and glassy enough to reflect the golden light that caught in the various nooks and veered off curves, speaking volumes of luxury and Coruscanti affluence. It was more than ideal. It was exactly the kind of ship Willix would make his entrance in, and the kind of ship that would in turn beg scorn from the Imperial higher-ups on Dimoran without undermining the importance of their guest.

The interior of the XX90 was white and spotless just like its paintwork, generous spreads of leather and blue overhead lighting panels giving the illusion of space. If not for the Imperial uniform Jyn felt she would look about as out of place as Tusken raiders on a cold planet. The droid at her shoulder had to keep his head ducked most awkwardly, though, and he chose to make whirring noises of disdain even though it looked like the joints in his neck allowed for the bend. Cassian exchanged a few more words with Naren while she took it upon herself to cross the floor and set her bag down on a padded bench meant for lounging. She turned away from the bench just in time to spot the girl watching her, making the young one bow her head shyly and hide behind her father. A little too late, Jyn attempted a smile.

"This one is actually legal," Naren was saying. "Up to the point I forged the license plates. Can't steal something like this without getting noticed."

"Must've cost you a lot," said Cassian, half a question that implied reimbursements would be difficult if any ended up being required.

"An arm and a leg, son, but I would give my limbs for the rebellion," the older man smiled a wry, sad kind of smile, dismissing this concern. He patted his daughter's head again, once, gently. "Just not my one shot at living. You ever think about that, Cassian?"

Cassian didn't reply, and Naren pointed towards the cockpit. "Single pilot, I'd reckon enough leg-space for your droid. She's got a four hyperspace journeys' mileage on her, so if anyone aks, she's as new as she looks. You won't need the thermal controls where you're going. Dimoran's as scorching as anything on that side."

"How many people is it meant to take?"

"No more than three, but living standards are just enough for four." He looked around, mulling over if there was anything left to say. "You'll find a scan-proof storage space under the main room's bunk. Anything else, I don't think you'll have to know unless you're buying this ship."

Cassian shook the ex-rebel's hand, said a few words of thanks but didn't appear communicative beyond that, spared a moment to wave at the six-year-old and set about the task of identifying himself with the cockpit. Naren saluted them both before heading down the ramp, promising to soon open the doors to the outside, but his daughter lingered by the open hatch, and it took Jyn a while to realize she was the only person left who the girl could talk to.

"Are you from the Alliance?" she asked.

Jyn attempted a smile, but it came nowhere close to Cassian's natural ease around the child. "I suppose so."

The girl nodded in full understanding. "Undercover."

Jyn wasn't altogether surprised. "You could say that."

A moment of silence settled in the blinding white interior of the ship.

"Papa says your work is good for the galaxy. But I'm not supposed to mention it to anyone because he could get into trouble."

Papa. The heartache was almost crushing.

"He's right," shrugged Jyn, because she didn't know what else to say, not out loud.

The girl stared a while longer, brown eyes probing, searching for signs of trust. She would have found none, but her innocence won out and she asked anyway. "Do you think you could tell me about your mission when you get back?"

Now this really did force her attention. "What?"

The girl's eyes wandered self-consciously. "It's just...I want to be like you when I'm old enough. Papa doesn't let me talk about it, but-"

"You want to join the rebellion?" Now Jyn really was looking at her, somewhere between incredulous and disbelieving. A chill had spread deep into her veins, and she was almost positive it had nothing to do with the recently activated air conditioning system.

"The Empire does bad things, that's why there's a rebellion," the girl defended, crossing her arms tightly at her chest. "I want to do good for the galaxy like Papa and you people he works with. Just because it's dangerous-"

Jyn didn't understand why, but it only felt right in that moment to squat down to the girl's level and stare her frankly in the eyes. Without searching she came across echoes of her own past in them, a far-away past, locked away, almost forgotten. An apartment in a Coruscanti high-rise, wide windows overlooking stupendous arrays of city light and flickering traffic. Two parents who were patient with her tantrums and a working father who tried to make time for her, although regardless of his success in  _that_  department he had always made his love known. She'd known. Up till about eight years of age, she had truly and effectively felt it, even if he hadn't always been around. 

The Empire was the first to take away from her.  _Bad things._

The Rebellion had proven no different.

_Good for the galaxy._

"It's not because it's dangerous that your father keeps you away from it," she heard the words leave her mouth, didn't understand why or how they were being spoken. All she felt was a desperate urge to say them as the girl's eyes searched hers, perhaps seeing the harrowed images burnt into them, perhaps seeing only the unusual flecks that had earned her the nameStardust. "It's because...the Rebellion...it demands. The cause is real, but it asks for a lot. It takes and it takes, and someday it will have taken so much that you will have nothing left to give but the life you already spent in service. You'll have nothing for yourself, do nothing for yourself. Just spend your whole life fighting and letting the cause take from you, for the good of the galaxy, maybe, but at a cost that you can never match up."

Kaytoo's footsteps receded into the cockpit, Cassian's voice called something indistinct. Naren issued a set of instructions over the comms, the speaker system blotching over his human tone of voice.

"The rebels fight for people like you," Jyn pressed her lips tight together, furrowed her brow, looked almost pleading. "People who have a  _chance_  left. We want to end this war so that anyone left in the galaxy without too much taken away from them- with a reason to keep living- can go through their lives without having to be afraid of the Empire or anything. We're fighting for people like you who can actually make the galaxy a better place once this war's done with. There's no point in the rebellion if there aren't those people left in the galaxy in the end, you know."

The girl regarded her silently, thoughtfully, but her expression was unreadable beyond that. Jyn got to her feet, trying not to shake. She slumped back down on the cushioned bench for good measure. Her eyes found the blank white wall behind the girl and took it in.

The six year old in her unsuspecting black dress and red flats was difficult to imagine someday serving with a band of armed rebels, but...it was so terrifyingly easy to believe the image was possible. Even she had been that age once. Even Cassian had.  _I've been in this fight since I was six years old._  What was to prevent the same fate befalling this other child, whose life was already so intricately tied to the cause because of her father's work?

"Magna, unless you want to go off in that ship with them..." came Naren's warning over the intercom.

"Coming, Papa!" exclaimed the girl, hurriedly hauling herself out of the narrow aisle and running for the still-open hatch. She looked like she was about to just slip down the gangplank with a hand on the railing, but she stopped before the exit and turned to Jyn.

"May the Force be with you," she said, excitement still threatening to creep into her voice. Then she ducked, took hold of the railing and allowed herself to slide down casually. She was gone just as the thrusters billowed puffs of smoke and the gangplank started to retract noiselessly, a brilliant metallic sheen in the white fog and warning lights.

Jyn gathered her knees to her chest, uncaring of what the action did to her uniform. She felt defeated.

And it was not just the girl. How much more did  _she_ have left in her that the Rebellion would take without asking?


	7. ETU: Going Along the Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heroes of the rebellion or pawns in a strategic blame game? Cassian reflects on the memories that still haunt his sleep and the Council session that decided to let the Scarif team continue. Jyn confronts a harrowing reality that calls for a plan of action.

_Just like he'd done on Jedha, he willed his slipping mind to focus on her footsteps, shaky as they were under his weight, their knees collectively stumbling with the effort to keep his battered form walking. He tried to pick out which staggering treads on the sand were hers, to stow away all thoughts of the past and future and focus on the here and now. On her. The intelligence assignment that had lead to a revolution, a leap for the Rebellion to strike against the Empire._

_The things they had accomplished. It was enough knowledge to die with._

_They were headed as far away from the data tower as possible, far from the waves that were suddenly in a mad rush, battering against the rocks and chopping in the wind like they were trying to escape this fate. It would all be in vain in a moment's time. But it felt right, better, safer, to get as far from the maddening sea and shuddering tower as possible._

_They halted their stumbling footsteps abruptly, but at a mutual arrangement- her arm slipped from beneath him and helped him lower to the sand. There was a gentle thump as they both sat. Calm, strangely collected, and almost ready to embrace this death._

_He didn't throw the covert glances of the spy he'd been for a lifetime. He turned to face her openly. To take in with his eyes her face, the eased crease of her brow, the expression of peace and fulfilment that somehow brightened her features more than the cruelly timed sunset over the collapsing horizon._

_"Your father would be proud of you, Jyn," he said, and meant it. He had no more walls up to hide the way he felt, or the authenticity of his words, or even the gentle affection that cracked through his voice._

I wish I could get to know you better.

_She smiled. It was a shaky sort of smile, slow-forming and heavy, but in no way was it reluctant or a mask of something else._

_She didn't say anything, but she might as well have also burnt her walls to the ground. One gloved hand reached into the distance between them and clasped his. He held on tightly. This was more than enough, for the moment._

_There were the silently screaming waves and the blinding light, a burst of sunlight over a decimated horizon and the green glow of the Death Star's fire._

_She turned to him and they embraced. He held her like she was everything to him, in this moment. He would be lying to himself if he said she wasn't._

_He clutched the back of her jacket, crushed his arms around her small, strong frame, pressed his chin into her shoulder as if that could bind them together like this, forever, as if that could keep their embrace and halt their fates at the same time._

_Death. Death was here._

_His eyes shot open with that harrowed, delayed realization and his heart lurched to his throat in panic._

_He wasn't ready for this._

###### 

#### Four months previously. 

Cassian had heard horror stories of the victory celebration that had given Skywalker, Solo and two of the last remaining representatives of the Rogue One crew their medals. There had been more drinking than had ever been permitted on Base before, the results of which included people waking up to different species in their beds, drunken fistfights ending in broken ship parts and the medical personnel ordering strict monitoring of the blood-alcohol levels of even some of the staunchest councilmembers.

On one hand, he was glad to have missed it. On the other, he hadn't been in a position to watch Jyn and Bodhi's backs and give them a little much-needed protection considering the position in the Alliance that he had and they didn't.

He altered course for the main meeting room, the limp in his leg growing heavier, the cold of Hoth Base stinging in his ankles and his more vulnerable joints. He had considered bringing the crutches along, but the whim had died down fast. No. He wasn't going into a damage-control meeting looking like a part of the damage himself.

Kaytoo now walked with perpetual disdain for his new surroundings, proving every bit as petty as from the original reprogramming, even though his metal chassis was well-equipped to withstand Hoth's weather conditions. What didn't facilitate Cassian's efficient functioning, he supposed, the droid wasn't willing to put up with. The droid wasn't too happy about waiting outside the room either, but he was told that his input would not help Cassian's case in the meeting, and so he'd grudgingly agreed to stand by the door with the lowly security droid who was long overdue for a service of parts.

Walking into High Command's room on the new Base triggered in him a deep-veined chill that had nothing to do with the cold.

This wasn't the same room the life-changing decision of not sanctioning the Scarif mission had been made. This was still the committee that had made the decision.

Cassian's expression was neutral and professionally straight-faced, prepared, sufficiently polite. Heads turned and eyes darted in his direction as he strode across the threshold to take up a position beside the main table serving as holoprojector- deactivated at this moment except for dim, pulsating green lights- and subtly leaned back on his good leg. All eyes, even those that had been less obvious, turned back to the door. Waiting for more required personnel. Except for five pairs from various places around the room.

Aren and Liowa stood at the helm of the table, two steps in front of the other bodies clustered there, their gazes apprehensive and trained on him. It required no effort to read their expressions- they were worried, up to the extent of anxious, and anticipated the worst while hoping for the best.

He bowed his head slightly in half-acknowledgement, half-reassurance. The junior officers visibly relaxed, some of the tension in their shoulders dissipating.

Melshi stood apart from his longtime friend and comrade Sefla, entirely out of place in this meeting room meant for strategists, politicians. His features were much less open than Aren or Liowa's, but the Sergeant had never looked so detached from his element without a rifle slung across his shoulder or a blaster of considerable size clipped to his belt.

Sefla stood somewhere in the vicinity of General Draven, and so Cassian didn't communicate anything across the table to him knowing full well that his best effort wouldn't go undetected.

The four of them, who belonged in the rebellion, among the ranks of the Alliance, Cassian could take in perfectly well. The wariness and instinctive protectiveness he felt on behalf of his team was a confined, niggling emotion somewhere in the back of his mind. But one glance at Bodhi Rook, defensive and fearful in the shadows, and the sharp sting in his gut almost broke his collected demeanour.

"The purpose of this meeting here today is not to debate over the rightness of the actions of the unit known as Rogue One," Mon Mothma's voice penetrated the heavy air of the room, prominent yet not commanding, tired, weary. Nobody said anything. Several gazes bored into the Senator's white robes. "Rather, it is to come to an agreement with what should be done with the members of this unit aside from court-martial and punishments, as Command ruled the Scarif mission as sanctioned and pardoned these actions." She nodded towards a Sentaor's aide by her side, and the younger woman picked up on cue.

"A special unit with combined forces- intelligence, piloting, retrieval and recruitment- is to be formed out of five of the remaining members of Rogue One, or the unit must be dissolved completely."

The room broke out into strings of murmuring and hushed discussions. Cassian shifted his weight, recalibrating the balance on his legs, and stood silently in his corner, watching covertly. Not the groups of discussion or the snappish objections being made. He watched the probably deliberately separated members of his crew, read instead what they wanted.

The survivors of the Scarif mission had been pardoned on individual grounds, seeing as the politicians of High Command couldn't afford to be too generous, or to let themselves look too foolish for not approving the mission in the first place. For Cassian, a long-ago approval from Draven that improvisations were allowed in the most extreme of circumstances, and action was preferred over inaction, was recalled despite how far-fetched and unbelievable an excuse it was. Jyn and Bodhi had gotten off on the grounds that they hadn't officially enlisted in the Alliance and therefore weren't within the Council's jurisdiction- only a slightly better reason- while Aren and Liowa were simply following direct orders issued from superior officers. And of course the dead among them had been given complete honours posthumously and the whole operation was made to look less like the unsanctioned mess it had really been.

Cassian was fully aware as to how things should have been by this stage in the proceedings. Their unit should have been called a one-time deal and dissolved immediately without question. If there were questions now, second thoughts, it very likely wasn't for their benefit.

Bodhi didn't want separation from his first team and only comrades. He was an outsider, and despite the few times he'd made small talk with other pilots in the hangar he still remained one. Worry, fear and desperate hope were all evident in his wide-eyed glances around the room, the uneasy shifting, fidgeting.

Sefla and Melshi, like Cassian, had enough firsthand experience with bad-to-worse scenarios to recognize what was really going on and not want the Council to stitch them together as a unit. They saw or at least suspected the political agenda underlying the move- Scarif had turned the galactic conflict in a different direction. If it ever turned out to be the wrong kind of direction, the blame could be specifically pointed out if all of their team were in one place.

When Jyn came back- _if_ she ever came back, he corrected himself, feeling unprofessional- she would want them to stick together, too. He couldn't imagine her agreeing to serve without getting what she wanted.

Draven had launched into a discussion with Mon Mothma. Perhaps negotiating on behalf of his prized intelligence operative, explaining why Cassian's role required him to work alone or with other operatives of the same field. He couldn't pick up the words and he didn't dare eavesdrop. He wasn't allowed to play a part in the decision anyway.

People meandered their way towards the front of the table and offered their concerns in hushed voices. Aren and Liowa disappeared somewhere behind the crowd, and Bodhi was lost completely. Cassian regarded the entire situation before him with an air of inaction that felt unnatural.

The discussions stopped, eventually. The room decended into a fragile silence, pierced by the occasional whisper.

Mothma called the room's occupants to attention.

"A decision has been made with a fractional difference in the votes," she announced, her voice somewhere between exhausted and remarkably sharp. Cassian kept his gaze straight and attentive. Either way, he wasn't about to react.

"A majority of this Committee dictates that five of the survivors of the Scarif mission- Captain Andor, Lieutenant Sefla, Sergeant Melshi, Bodhi Rook and Sergeant Erso- continue service as a single special unit, while Corporals Aren and Liowa are allowed to complete their preliminary training and join whichever field then deemed most suitable." She seemed to be avoiding many faces in the room as she spoke. "This Council's well wishes go out to all of you."

###### 

Despite his contemplative mood and purposeful pace, Bodhi fell in stride beside him after a quick jog and spoke excitedly while trying to catch his breath.

"I was...I was worried that they wouldn't want us working together, that they'd...that they'd assign me with people who aren't all that trusting of Imperial defectors, and I worried about Jyn-"

Cassian thought about it, but decided against telling him the grim reality of their situation. He did not believe in _considerate_ dishonesty, but some still-recovering part of his mind insisted it was wrong to burst the bubble of men like Bodhi, who'd been through too much in too little time and were in desperate need to find security, any kind of security, reality be damned. Ever since their perfectly-timed jaunts to various off-world blackmarkets in search of a replacement for Kaytoo's chassis, he'd found that if there was one thing that started to anger him far easier than most others, it was the prospect of the Imperial defector getting hurt or even upset. It was inexplicable, the feeling of responsibility, and over the past month it had only served to remind him of Jyn. Of what she was getting herself into, of how little he could do to help from where he was.

"What do they mean by a special unit?"

Cassian took on a patient and easy expression, tucking away his actual thoughts that ran on the negative line. "A strike team made of operatives from different divisions of work, enabling the team to act across a range of different assignments. We execute our orders as soon as we get them, because only the most difficult, unexpected or unpredictable situations will come our way to be dealt with."

Bodhi nodded in understanding. "Because we're made of operatives from various fields and so should be able to handle anything."

"That seems to be the popular belief," Kaytoo chimed in from beside Cassian. "Statistically it is not always true."

"Statistically," echoed Bodhi.

"Statistically is nearly always closer to realistically," said Kaytoo in his most offended tone.

Cassian shook his head. "The Council has made a decision and it's not one we can ignore. We might as well accept the work handed over to us and meet their expectations rather than disappoint."

Bodhi frowned, confusion weaving its way into his features. "Wait, isn't it a _good thing-"_

He didn't get to finish his question, because Cassian came to an abrupt halt just as they passed one of the many corridors that passed through the broad path they took, Kaytoo stopping shortly afterwards. Bodhi turned just in time to see a white jacket-clad young woman, probably younger than even Jyn, walk out into the main path without breaking the streak of fiery argument she held with a man he recognized as the honoured smuggler from the Death Star victory celebration.

There were about six more seconds of shouting from both parties before the woman- _Princess Leia_ , he realized, remembering the celebrations- noticed they were being watched and froze, turning her head in Cassian's direction. The Captain responded with a rare, genuine smile that extended to a glint in his eyes.

The Princess smiled and approached him, all anger suddenly dissipating.

"Cassian," she said, the greeting as affectionate as those between siblings, or very close friends. "I haven't got the opportunity to talk to you in months."

Cassian inclined his head. "Princess," he replied in formal address.

Leia narrowed her eyes but playfully. "Two can play this game, _Captain_. Still confined to Base?"

Cassian didn't make an effort to hide how he _really_ felt about being confined to Base. "Yes, unfortunately. You don't suppose I could call in a favour and get an early release approved?"

Leia scoffed. "I'd do a lot for your sake, Captain, but defying doctors' orders is simply too much." Her features softened. "Wasn't there a meeting today...?"

Cassian nodded, and started explaining in a lowered voice, head bowed and hands in his pockets to avoid the attention of the few passers-by who drifted along the path and across corridors. Bodhi found that Han had already stalked off and was nowhere to be seen.

Kaytoo tilted his head in his direction, noting the dozen questions he wasn't asking. "Cassian was one of the Princess' handlers for three years. During her time with the Senate she reported directly to him on most occasions."

"Oh," said Bodhi simply, not knowing what to make of that. His tenure with the Empire had seen a couple of recruits fresh from the academy talk of the Princess with unending adoration. He still found it difficult to wrap his head around the fact that she'd been a rebel collaborator all this time, and trained in those arts by none other than Cassian himself.

Leia's eyes flickered towards him, and the pilot felt suddenly self-conscious. Maybe it had to do with actually being in the presence of one so celebrated and well-liked, maybe it was because while the Princess had been denied her request to meet the survivors of Scarif, she had anyway met with all of them except for him, because he'd launched into work as quickly as possible to distract himself from everything and hadn't had a lot of extra time on Base.

He _could_ pretend to be a nobody- he certainly always felt like one, and couldn't believe there was really anything to celebrate about his role on Scarif- but it wouldn't slip past her unless she happened to have an exceptionally bad memory for faces.

"They may have had underlying motives," she said, picking her words out carefully as she looked between the two of them. "But strategically it isn't a bad decision, keeping your team together. You've accomplished more than anyone else ever thought possible before, and we had a solid victory to show for it." She straightened. "I don't doubt Rogue One will have future successes."

So she remembered him, then.

"Bodhi Rook? May I have a word with you?"

Bodhi startled, but managed to calm his nerves just as Cassian inclined his head in subtle reassurance. He looked at the Princess and realized it didn't appear he was in trouble- she had on a small smile, a sad kind of smile, and he didn't have the nerve to read into it. He followed the short distance behind her while Cassian and Kaytoo stayed where they were.

Leia took in a deep breath before speaking. "I wish I could have met you sooner, Mr-"

"Bodhi," he blurted. "Just...just Bodhi, please."

Leia smiled wearily. "Bodhi. You would've heard this a couple of times, but I don't feel the Alliance is expressing enough gratitude for what we owe you. It takes exceptional bravery to make the decisions you made, Bodhi, and those decisions lead to finding the plans and destroying the Death Star. Essentially saving the rebellion, really."

Bodhi could feel the beginnings of a flush creeping up his cheeks. "I'm not...I mean...thank you, Your Highness."

"Leia," insisted the Princess. Then her expression took on a greater softness, tiredness, and she looked like someone who had seen far too many horrors than befitted her age. "There is no...need anymore."

He didn't have to think for long. It hit him. Alderaan.

"I'm sorry-" he began, guilty and wide-eyed.

"No," Leia snapped, shaking her head. Then, gently, "No. The Rebellion owes you everything. It's because of what you did that...Alderaan, Jedha...they won't happen again. It's unfair that they haven't even given you a rank yet, and I promise I'm going to see to it soon."

Bodhi felt a horrible churning in his gut, dreaded that emotion was threatening to break out in his face. "I was from Jedha," he said, sounding quieter than he ever had to his own ears.

Leia looked up at him at once and her own features suddenly threatened to betray too much. He couldn't tell if he was shaking or she was.

Unexpectedly, Leia reached out and drew him into a loose, careful embrace. He could no longer think of the girl before him as the well-trained spy who'd remained in the midst of the Empire's top officials for years without notice. Gently, he returned the hug. This was a girl who'd lost her home, just like he had, but lost everything else along with it. He thought of Jyn and all the losses that had shaken but never broken her, thought of Cassian and the  
very little he knew of the Captain's terrible past. Realized that in the rebellion, they had all lost something to the Empire, and it was that common calamity that allowed them to work together at all.

When Leia drew back, she was as composed as earlier, the suffering in her eyes a distant and overcome memory.

"You're a good man, Bodhi," said Leia, nodding slightly, clasping her hands at her front. The faintest of smiles twitched at the corners of her lips. "You'll make an even better Sergeant, don't you think?"

Bodhi returned the smile with rare easiness, like an enormous burden had been lifted off his shoulders with finally getting the opportunity to express the sadness still lingering after Jedha. "Thank you, Leia."

###### 

#### Present day. 

"I'll go check up on Jyn," said Cassian, releasing the latch of his harness as he switched the status of his dashboard to _auto_. "If the Dimoran facility makes contact, don't say anything. Call me."

The droid made an indistinct sound of begrudging acknowledgement, and then made his disdain with the mediocre task even more obvious by shifting the gears up to manual so he'd have at least the task of piloting to bide his time.

Knowing full well that Kaytoo would grumble _verbally_ if he did, Cassian refrained from making a comment and ducked out of the cockpit door to the narrow but not uncomfortably cramped aisle of the shuttle.

Jyn was seated on the extensive leather-padded bench to his left, knees drawn close to her chest. Her expression was blank and her gaze was distant. The Imperial uniform, so carefully pleated this morning, had lost a lot of its regulation tidiness.

He was momentarily taken aback. A dozen possibilities flickered through his head. None of them seemed formidable enough to cause _this_ reaction in Jyn Erso.

"We have a few hours to prep," he said as if he hadn't noticed instead of searching for comforting words. Sometimes drawing the preoccupied mind right out of the situation was a better approach than comfort. "Reading about the role you're supposed to play and actually implementing it are vastly different things. A little extra practice never hurts."

Jyn blinked, once, twice, then rapidly as if suddenly waking up to the present. She shook her head, snapping out of the trance, but the blank stare of shock was back as soon as her gaze turned up to his face.

Now a half-frown really did crease the space between his brows.

"Are you alright?" he ventured, leaving room for a lie, a denial, a way out if she didn't want to trust him with the problem. And it would simply be too much, too wrong to force trust between them, not when himself and two others on the crew hid a vital and chilling truth with regards to the current mission that neither she nor Bodhi so much as suspected.

But Jyn Erso let her walls down. Didn't put up a struggle to keep them up. She looked at him with an utterly alien fear in her eyes and said in a voice that barely carried, "It has to stop."

Her answer was vague and indecipherable, but he'd never before seen her beaten. Not even when they'd embraced for death on Scarif. Not like this.

"What has to stop?" he asked gently, lowering what was obvious of his own defenses like when questioning a fragile victim. He settled on the padded bench opposite. A narrow space of aisle streaked between their knees.

Jyn's reply was a hoarse breath. "The war."

His frown deepened, his puzzlement increased. "The war, Jyn?"

Her eyes caught his and they were bare, naked, betraying the dazed horror behind them. "You were six," she said in a breath. She'd let the first words out and now let them continue with rapidity. "I was...eight, I was eight. It's been going on for too long. And her...Magna, she's young, she's six, probably. It's been too long. We have to stop it. We can't let another generation go through this."

Cassian had leant back, stiffly pressed his spine against the leather, and the quaver of fierce determination that snuck its way into her voice towards the end went unnoticed because all of his walls, _all of them_ , were up again and blockaded.

He studied her with a forced face of calm, a spy's face, while memories from a long-abandoned life turned his resolve cold, stirring anger and animosity close under the surface.

Jyn looked up at him again and didn't flinch, even though she could probably read him. She could and she didn't care. Her expression was laced with furious purpose even though her voice hitched.

"She wanted to be a rebel," exhaled Jyn, her hands coming between her knees, fingers clenching. "She wanted to fight in this war."

And it all made sense to him. Cassian sighed, eyes dropping like lead, and his defensive anger dissipated to nothing. The tension in his shoulders eased. He was not being needlessly reminded of his past.

In the heavy silence that settled between them, Cassian raised his eyes a fraction to where their knees rocked from a slight spot of turbulence, and reached out for Jyn's clenched fists.

"Then we'll see to it that this war ends during our lifetimes," he said, an assurance, certainly not a promise, but a call to action. And from the steel in her tone and her eyes, she wanted more than empty promises to _fight._

The taut lines stretching across her knuckles loosened somewhat, and he shifted his hand slightly, bringing his other one to rest weightlessly on top of hers.

"Yes," her fingers twitched, ever ready for action, for fight. "We'll see to that."  
He admired the fire in her eyes. He admired that nothing, not the Empire, not the Alliance, had managed to douse that fire after all this time.

"Jyn, about the mission," he withdrew his hands, slowly, bringing them to rest between his own knees. "Our current situation, Rogue One's. I don't think anyone's filled you in on the details yet."

She did look up sharply at that, once again alert to the present. "Details?"

Cassian leant further back against the seat, allowing his neck to curve slightly where the body of the shuttle swooped in an upward curve. "The actual reason we're in one team."

Jyn narrowed her eyes, any hint of easiness around her lips twitching and dying down. "You said you were told to pick whoever you wanted. Bodhi said a lot of people on Base wanted us working together."

Cassian shook his head. "Not wrong. To a lot of people, we're heroes and it would be a waste not to make us a team. High Command has different reasons."

"And you?"

"I was told to choose from among us. I persuaded them that Aren and Liowa be allowed to complete their training and join whatever division they're best suited for. I said that you'd be a part of my team if you agreed to it."

"Cassian," Jyn was staring straight through his mask of calm, straight at the things he wasn't saying. "Why did High Command make us a team?"

He didn't want to keep yet another truth from her, and the consequences would be dire if someone as central to the whole affair as Jyn didn't know the actuality of their situation. "What we're fighting, it's always been war," he started to run his fingers through his hair before he caught himself. A nervous habit lost a long time ago. Nervous habits didn't serve well in his line of work, but ever since he'd broken his back and a leg...

"But what happened on Scarif gave that war a direction. The Empire built the Death Star and we took a stand against it. We infiltrated a Base and did a lot of damage, destroyed the superweapon itself. It left the Empire disoriented, lost them a massive investment. What happened with the Senate..." He clenched his fingers together again, not meeting her eyes. "The whole galaxy knows now that there's a war being fought and sides have to be taken. People are looking for a root cause to blame this war on. It is the Death Star. But there are others who think this state of things started with our attack on Scarif."

Jyn snorted. "That's ridiculous."

"It is. But it's easy. It's straightforward. And if we are all together in one place, like we are now, there is a specific direction in which to point the blame."

"So that's what all this is?" demanded Jyn. "A twisted blame game? Are we the Alliance's bargaining chip if they ever decide they can't fight anymore?"

Cassian didn't say anything for several drawn-out, tense seconds. He might as well have just said yes.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with this arrangement, Jyn," he said instead, lifting his gaze to hers again. "There may be threatening incentives behind keeping us together as a unit, but don't let it get in the way of what you'd otherwise do for the cause. We've brought this war a couple more steps closer in the Rebellion's favour...and we can see it won, I believe that."

Another few seconds of silence. At the end of the stretch, though, the Sergeant's expression softened somewhat.

"Our unit are the only people in the Alliance whom I trust," she said simply. "I can't feel uncomfortable with it."

Her arm extended, the tips of her fingers lightly brushed his, a gesture of assurance, trust. Cassian repressed the shiver that ran through his entire being at the touch. What was he doing to her? What would she think of him if she learnt of his lie?

"Let's get that uniform back in order," he said with a taut smile. "The next two hours we can spend perfecting your cover."


	8. ETU: Infiltration One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two rebels decide to be rebellious, Bodhi learns on the job, a certain Director is naturally suspicious and Jyn's troublesome cufflinks could foil their delicate plan.

Bodhi had flown the sleek black action ship Sefla was proud to call their own along a different route to the facility than Willix and his aide had set course for. They'd been in touch with the other half of their team once, and in brief; in the form of a single text transmission reading _clear_. Bodhi hoped the rest of the plan would play out as smoothly. 

The ship's dashboard flashed a warning light for a scan radius it was close to entering, and he couldn't help but smile that their leads so far were right.

Good signs so far. 

He steered them clear of the invisible barrier indicated on the scans and swerved to the other side of the canyon, lowering between the massive walls of smooth rock so the ship's hull almost skirted the ground. It was smooth, easy flying; they had some time to wait for Willix's shuttle. 

The facility was located a good half-mile away where the canyon split into ragged, messy ends, perched on a vast but crude elevation of rock. And like many of the Empire's prisons it had no subtlety- it spread across a great area as loud, imposing black buildings that dared the planet's residents to offend their Imperial occupiers. It wasn't only high-value prisoners they kept inside. 

How many people who didn't deserve it, Bodhi found himself absently wondering, were locked behind those walls? Jyn herself had suffered some long period in an Imperial labour camp. How many others like her, whom they _wouldn't_ get to save? 

_Don't go there. Get yourself together._

Bodhi snapped from this treacherous line of thought at the feeling of a clap on his shoulder, and the wheel of the ship that was once again real under his hands. 

"You okay?" Sefla asked, with as little real concern as the words could hold. Of course he looked okay. Probably like he was dozing on the job. 

"Any contact from Jyn and Cassian?" he asked. 

"Apparently we're not to engage the enemy until after they're inside," Sefla appeared unappreciative of the words he had to say. "Or get within the radius. But as we can all tell, that is a stupid plan."

Bodhi startled. "What?"

The Lieutenant looked over the dashboard to where the invisible border of the scan radius was a good three inches away from the dot that was their ship on the screen. "I'm thinking there's a way we can get closer. Close enough to be of help in case they need it."

But Cassian had clearly ordered-

"Ship's stealthier than we give it credit for," came Melshi's voice dryly as he appeared in the cockpit. "We have enough cover to ghost our way past the primary gate."

"Enough cover?" Bodhi asked. 

Melshi jutted a finger at the viewport. "Plenty of cover."

Bodhi followed this general direction to peer upwards and strain, a little beyond the viewport's direct scope. They were gliding vertically on a rock face to his right, effectively hidden in the impending shadows cast by the strong Dimoran sun and the canyon ridges, while just at the very limit of his vision and a great distance off- there. A patchwork convoy of starships passing over the facility detection-zone they'd tried their best to avoid. 

"Some part of local traffic's got re-routed here," guessed Sefla. "We can blend in, and this beauty isn't even going to get noticed because those are probably all private vessels."

"And we can use the ghosting function just to make a landing," murmured Bodhi thoughtfully. "If their scans are all set off anyway, we won't stand out. I bet we won't be the only ones landing if the traffic really was re-routed."

At the same time Melshi turned a raised eyebrow on his comrade. "Did you just refer to this ship as a _beauty?_ "

"Isn't she?" retorted Sefla. 

Bodhi slumped in his seat. "This is a dangerous amount of guesswork, though."

" _She_ is not even ours for the keeping, not yet," snorted Melshi. "Captain plans to ask Logistics for something more discreet. Don't get attached."

Sefla looked personally scandalized. "He plans to _what?_ "

"We weren't kept together for style, Taidu, we were kept together for results. Results like Scarif."

Sefla scoffed. "What _we_ have been reduced to is Alliance propaganda, or some kind of bargaining chip for when things go wrong, Command's dirty backup plan. Might as well look stylish about it."

"Guys," prompted Bodhi, eyes never leaving the viewport. 

There were more ships coming in, miniature and insignificant in the skies and the distance. He recalled from the morning's briefing that while the planet itself was unpopulous and laid-back, it lay across a well-commuted hyperspace route and there was a steady stream of passing ships over Dimoran's Eastern hemisphere. This wasn't the Eastern hemisphere, which meant these ships had indeed been rerouted. 

"I still have a bad feeling about this," he admitted uneasily. 

"So much about this mission is wrong already," Melshi shook his head. "But this looks like an opportunity bound to make a positive difference. What's the worst that could happen? Even if we're detected it won't look while we're up to something."

A slight frown creased the pilot's brow. "What do you mean so much is wrong?"

Sefla dropped into the co-pilot's seat and shook his head curtly. "You don't have to worry about that. Just get us in, tuck the ship somewhere discreet, and let us handle the explosives if there needs to be explosives."

_You get us in and let us handle the explosives._

It sounded too much like their gameplan for Scarif. 

Bodhi considered his options. There were too many things that were uncertain by this point, too many doubts and questions and niggling fears, and if he wasn't mistaken the matter of the way they got in had turned into a clash with Cassian's orders. But-

Sefla and Melshi were experienced soldiers, had years of decision-making behind them. Cassian would probably also take this opportunity if he were here. Probably. And if they were already close when the time came to double-swipe and ghost, it drastically reduced the risk of a late double-swipe.

"Okay," he said at last, wrapping his fingers around the controls. "Lead the way."

###### 

The Empire had dark secrets that even some of its most respected dignitaries and loyalists knew nothing about. With a network of power that stretched across the far reaches of the galaxy, casting a shadow over worlds of the Mid Rim and Outer Rim and unexplored sections of the Unknown Regions, dark secrets and shady operations were easy to keep well under the radar of Core World Imperial authorities with a taste for morality. Slavery and unethically cheap labour was guarded well enough. Torture as interrogation was a method frowned upon by most dignitaries and not permitted as per the Empire's policy on paper; but the military saw things differently from self-righteous Core World politicians and so while the occasional facility like Dimoran wasn't common knowledge, it wasn't a secret as well-guarded as slavery of Kashyyk natives. 

Director Primeval Descon had just been notified that one such pompous bastard who believed torturing the enemy was morally wrong- or maybe he supported the idea, maybe he wanted to shower the facility with praise, but Descon didn't care either ways, the bastard be _damned_ \- had found about their operations and was keying in a shortly informed visit. Visit? The facility was a high-security prison, not a construction site. It could do without _visits._

"Did Willix's background check come clean?" Well, that wasn't what he meant, really- no Core World politician's track record was spotless- but Descon was looking for something else specifically.

"As far as official records go, the guy's free of any real charges," Lieutenant Olson Creek answered, reading off a datapad he'd already gone through a dozen times. He was always eager to please his commanding officer- although, as second in command, there wasn't much room for advancement- and this was exactly the reason he'd been promoted to the spot in the first place. It had been a year in office and Creek was yet to grow himself an ego. "But his job never stays the same. He's frequently reassigned between Coruscant and Lothal, done some unspecified work on Ryloth, and has most of his tasks carried out by officers. He maintains contact with them from one of our trade outposts he's in charge of."

Descon deemed it too early to scoff and declare Willix a rebel collaborator, but he certainly hadn't been presented with less than it took to light a spark of suspicion. 

"A trade outpost in which sector?"

"Bordering the Mid Rim off Haidoral Prime, Director."

Descon grunted without conviction. "A Core World Imperial of _Coruscanti_ origin assigned to some edge in the Mid Rim?"

"Actually, Willix's family originally came from the Mid Rim. Six generations ago they made a move to the Core Regions, recruited by a company for their engineering expertise. They grew from there onwards."

"And is he representing the Empire or Haidoral Prime with his job?"

"Reports say he's been very involved with establishing Imperial rule on Haidoral, sir."

"I'm not convinced with _reports,_ " Descon waved an impatient hand. "I want _stories,_ personal opinions, tangible evidence. Any commendations from higher up about his work on Haidoral?"

Creek paused, recollecting the specifics of what he'd found. "Lieutenant Commander Aron Draft, in a few official reports."

Descon tapped his chin in thought. "And no one else?"

"No, sir."

_Most interesting_. "And what is Willix known to be like in person?"

Creek consulted his datapad. "Reputed to be intolerant. His last aide-de-camp was dismissed for not reporting for duty on time. Paranoid, apparently, with a KX security droid he bought for money at his side most of the time. Attends selected social gatherings. He's known to be a real charmer outside of duty."

"Married?"

"Briefly, then divorced. The wife died of a tropical virus two years later."

Descon nodded curtly, tapping at the empty space before him on his desk. "Leave your report here, Lieutenant. That'll be all."

Creek complied, but paused before drawing away. "What do you think, sir?"

The Director took his own time answering the question, allowing himself more room to consider his verdict. He spoke just before an uncomfortable silence could clog the air in his office. 

"I think we need to keep our eyes open," he picked up the datapad, settled in his chair. The Director never spared time off his work to read reports himself, but he seemed quite intrigued by this one. "I think Willix's story reeks of convenient explanations for things that would give away a..."

Creek adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve uncomfortably behind his back. "Give away what, sir?"

Descon met his gaze with thought in the crease between his brows. "Just keep your eyes open."

###### 

Jyn fought down the urge to slump back onto the bench and refuse to move for the rest of the mission when the cufflinks of her uniform clicked open for the third time in the past half-hour. 

"Are Imperial uniforms actually like this or are our forges just so bad?" she asked Cassian with a scathing look, telling herself that she was _not_ complaining. 

Cassian for the most part looked exasperated, but the left corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly on reflex. He caught himself before she could notice. Sefla was already having a great time taunting him, and he did not wish to give his comrade any more self-destructive satisfaction in the future even if that satisfaction wasn't justified in the first place. "Do you see me having any issues with mine?"

Jyn eyed him unappreciatively, before looking back down at the offending cufflink and proceeding to fix it single-handedly. It writhed between her fingers like a fish caught in Lah'mu's mud.

Cassian reached across to clip it back together in one go. "Willix isn't supposed to tolerate disorder, Jyn. It won't help our cover if I don't dismiss you from duty as soon as you start looking unprofessional."

Jyn shot him a scathing glare. "Whose idea was this stupid Impeiral's personality anyway?"

"I don't have a fixed partner for the alias," replied Cassian matter-of-factly. "Willix having a tendency to dismiss his seconds makes that space readily available."

Jyn grunted indistinctly in acknowledgement. "And that never gets suspicious? New faces all the time?"

Cassian reached up to swiftly button the collar of her uniform.

"I'm starting to think you really were given a bad fake," he muttered, pushing both palms against her shoulders to inspect her failing Imperial garb from a better vantage point. Jyn blew irately at a lock of hair that had crept from its careful bun and fell in her face now. 

"The Dimoran facility sent us landing instructions," Kaytoo informed them, turning around the bend from the cockpit, looking cramped- hunched against the low ceiling- and sour about it. "We'll be there in thirty minutes and twenty four seconds. What are you doing? Is Jyn Erso not ready for her role?"

Cassian stepped away from her to answer the droid, but a skeptical eye remained trained on her collar. "Follow their instructions and keep Sefla's team posted. Jyn, do you know what you have to do?"

Standing straighter with her hands behind her back as previously practiced, Jyn flashed him a half-smile of completely assured confidence that she did not really feel. It did not show that she didn't really feel it.

What had he told Draven, back when they debated about her suitability for the mission? 

_She's been under different covers all her life. She hasn't been trained, maybe, but she hasn't been caught either._

_I'll be surprised if Erso agrees to the technicalities of this mission, Captain. Will that be a problem?_

Cassian had kept his face impassive and his tone neutral. 

_Whether she agrees or not won't be a problem, sir._

Now he briefly flicked his gaze her away before following his droid to the cockpit.

It wouldn't be a problem to the Alliance, or Draven, or anybody they had to please or work for.

He wasn't willing to acknowledge it in his thoughts, but those weren't really the people that mattered. 

###### 

It was difficult to believe that they could be completely hidden from Imperial eyes at the flick of a single dashboard switch, but they would have to believe it to execute the next part of the plan. Getting into the airspace of the civilian vessels using the facility's land as a bypass had been easy- too easy- until Bodhi had caught sight of the lurking threat. Of _course_ the Empire had security protocols for events like this. Mingling with the crowd of civilian ships were Imperial scouting ships that stood out as obviously as white stars in a blue sky, commanding authority and order. _Demanding_ obedience. The civilian vessels seemed to move in a slow, careful quiet like prisoners with guns trained to their backs.

Bodhi made for a descent as casually as his trembling hands on the wheel allowed him, a move not entirely suspicious because a lot of the other crafts had landed as well, waiting out the traffic; if the scouts had been looking for them specifically, he felt...

_Of course they're looking for us. They're looking for anyone who might be stupid enough to sneak in. They just don't know what we look like, or if we're actually here in the first place._

That gave him some small measure of reassurance. 

Sefla swung around the co-pilot's seat to sit heavily in it, making Bodhi's nerves jump in shock. He quickly collected himself. He still wasn't over Bor Gullet, then. Maybe he had a longer way to go than he thought. Or maybe this mission was just fraying his nerves, maybe because they had already strayed from the original plan-

A plan which had been risky and much more likely to go disastrously wrong. They'd seen an opportunity, and they'd taken it. Sefla and Melshi knew what they were doing, he reminded himself. _He_ didn't, not to the extent that he would say so out loud, but they did. 

"I'm a genius, aren't I?" asked Sefla smugly, as if reading his thoughts. 

"I...I guess so. Sir." Bodhi spared him just a glance, most part of his attention focused on the barren space in front of them and the canyon wall that wasn't being scaled by Imperial troopers trying to reach them.

"Just Sefla, please," the Lieutenant said, clearly not worried about their getting detected. "Unless you're presenting a report, or when we're around the big table at Base. Then it's rank and last name. Are you tense?"

"A little bit," lied Bodhi. 

"But this isn't your first official mission."

"Well." The pilot thought about it. "It's my first real mission that's official."

Sefla chewed back a grin. "I see. You don't consider those scouting runs and such real missions?"

Bodhi wondered if Sefla knew the role he'd played in getting Kaytoo a new body after Scarif. He had just been a pilot, every time they searched, except when Cassian had finally agreed to let him accompany him on the ground. At the end of a long and explosive day, he hadn't regretted the decision. 

"They're important," admitted Bodhi. "But they don't...feel...real, you know? Not unless there's something...difficult, or...or dangerous about it."

"You're a man of action as well," noted Sefla with a respectful nod. "It's a good thing you're assigned with us, then. Ever had to pretend to be someone else?"

Bodhi looked his way a little more clearly this time. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," Sefla stared straight ahead at the canyon wall for all of three seconds. "You decided to be a pilot and became a pilot?"

"Well...yes."

"Never tried your luck with anything else?"

"No. Not really."

"When I joined the rebellion..." Sefla sighed, like this wasn't a big deal to be narrating, but brought back painful memories all the same. "I didn't look like soldier material. Had never learnt to fly anything. Couldn't operate communication devices. Intel, maybe, they decided, so I was given a partner to do my job with until they could rely on me to be able to do it myself."

"My partner was the same age but he'd been around for a while. He was good at what he did, fit into a different skin easily. And I mucked up my first mission."

A minute smile tugged at his lips. "Spying wasn't for me. It tugged my conscience the wrong way. Then I enlisted for training with guns and found my place and lost my conscience."

Bodhi wanted to ask why he was being told all of this- it certainly wasn't a favour being returned because he'd never disclosed anything from _his_ past- but before he got the chance to gather his nerves the dashboard radio cackled to life. 

_"Come in, Team Two."_

Sefla sighed exasperatedly before lazily reaching over to push the intercom button.

"Really? You're going to call us Team Two?"

Cassian didn't sound amused on the other end of the line. " _Hardly matters if you know who we're talking to. Get into position. I'll send the clearance code as soon as we get it, which should be any minute now_."

Bodhi cast an uneasy glance the Lieutenant's way. "Uh, see, the thing is...we...we might have a better plan."

Cassian was silent for a second, but the frown on his face managed to transfer even over the comm. " _Whatever it is you've thought of, it's a little too late to execute._ "

"It's not...it's not _all_ that different from the original plan," amended Bodhi quickly. "We've actually just got closer to the facility so when you need us-"

" _What about the secondary gate?_ "

Bodhi looked to Sefla for help, but the man was looking mildly amused by this conversation.

"We're already inside, just ten blocks after the secondary gate," he said, leaning over the dashboard comm casually.

Cassian's voice was somewhere between disbelif and scathing incredulity. " _"What do you mean you're inside?"_

"There's traffic that's got rerouted here," said Sefla, dropping the playful look on his face. "All gates are open except for the ones directly leading into the facility itself. A lot of civilian ships are on the ground and probably setting off all their scanners, so the bet is that those scanners have been turned off."

" _This is exactly the kind of opportunity someone wanting to break in would take,_ " muttered Cassian, considering. " _They're going to be keeping a careful eye on the gates that lead in."_

"No chance of a double-swipe-looking-like-a-glitch working," Sefla agreed, as if he'd known this all along. Maybe he had, and just hadn't told Bodhi. 

Cassian's tired sigh rattled through the speakers as static. " _We'll need a different plan and quick. Jyn and I are almost in."_

Sefla's lips quirked into a grin again, and Bodhi doubted his new comrade could keep a serious face for very long.

"Don't worry. Already got one."

###### 

Were these lighter circumstances, Jyn would have stopped a moment longer to appreciate just how beautiful this part of Dimoran was; even though it was the half that was Imperial occupied, even though it had looked harsh and fiery from space, up close the vast expanse of sand and stone was easy on the eyes. There was a massive canyon range that snaked around the landscape, casting great portions of the ground in shadow. The picture was painted in black, beige and hues of orange.

The Dimoran facility came into view, cradled by sand dunes, a falcon's nest in the desert.

There were ordinary prisoners, and valuable prisoners. The barrenness of the compound immediately surrounding the prison reminded her too much of Wobani. 

Cassian emerged from the passenger compartment, where he'd been engaged in a call with the rest of their team on a secure line.

"Sefla improvised," he informed her from the low doorway, because there wasn't enough room in the cockpit for more than two people, and Kay was already firmly wedged in his seat. "There's civilian traffic rerouted over this place."

"It appears there is," commented Kay mechanically, calling Jyn's attention back to the viewport.

The skies, and much of the ground, were crowded, and up close she could see the dozen landed ships that had been hidden earlier in the shadows. 

"They're going to be on closer guard because of this," she commented with a frown, her throat feeling strangely constricted in light of this development. "Are you sure we can double-swipe?"

Cassian coughed into a fist, casting his eyes down and twitching his lips behind his hand. When he looked up and spoke again, he'd lost his Mid-Rim accent, and sounded like the Coruscant-bred bloodline Imperial that Willix was.

"They have it figured out. We'll be setting down in a couple of minutes."

That was her call to slip into the skin of her alias as well. 

"Incoming," said Kay. The dashboard radio cackled to life. 

" _This is the Dimoran detainment facility to unidentified vessel. Identify yourself, your purpose and clearance code."_

Jyn kept perfectly still while Kay pressed the intercom and Cassian answered, accent crisp to the extent that for a single split second, she couldn't recognize the man standing in the doorway. 

"Captain Ethen Willix of the Imperial Mid-Rim mission on an informed visit. Six-Two-Nine-Zero-Nine-Nine-Zero."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

" _Cleared, Captain. The Director will personally receive you at landing platform six._ "

Cassian's eyes flickered over to hers. "Very well." Kay took his finger off the intercom. "Transmit the code to the gate, Kay."

A gate closer to the base of the impending grey building slid slowly open- the primary gate- while he knew, were they following the original plan, Bodhi's ship wouldn't have been caught by the communications unit thanks to the ghosting function, and for this one instance the code to open any gate of the facility was the same thing. Their pilot would have to perfectly time his entrance with theirs to get through the secondary gate, ghost again, and tuck the ship in a canyon ridge inside the compound, switching off all detectable life support functions so even if they had turned up on the radar, they would have looked like a part of building, or scrap metal, or one of the numerous supply crates stored in the ridges. They would remain undetected right up to the moment the detained rebels were out of the building, get them, and get out before the secondary gate closed. 

With the secondary gate open anyway, however, the Imperials would be on guard and shoot them out of the sky the moment they swept in to collect the prisoners, and the plan would only get so far if the break-out went undetected in the first place. So Sefla had come up with an alternative strategy.

The gate they flew through opened up to a space caged in dark walls, lighting provided by strips running along their lengths. Beyond the platform a broad corridor stretched into semi-darkness. Six armed stormtroopers stood in the aisles, the white of their armour clashing with the black prison interior. 

When they set the ship down, Jyn positioned herself smartly at Cassian's shoulder as Kay joined him, adapting the posture that was Imperial regulation just before the shuttle hatch hissed open, releasing a thin cloud of white smoke that momentarily obstructed the path ahead and the uniformed figures standing on it.

The smoke cleared, and a man in white and rank plaques with greying hair and blue eyes stepped forward to greet Ethen Willix. 

"Always a pleasure to meet a man of your authority," he said, voice cutting smoothly through the foreboding darkness. 

Willix angled his head in acknowledgement, a barely perceptible smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Likewise, Director. The short notice isn't a problem, I hope?"

Cassian shook the Director's hand with an expression on his face that sent an cold jolt up her spine, and she couldn't remind herself not to be transfixed. 

Descon looked too much like the man in her nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now taking Rogue One prompts on tumblr, drop me one from [ this list! ](https://hoofgirl.tumblr.com/post/166982754307/writing-prompts)


End file.
